The Closest to Heaven
by icedintheveins
Summary: Blaine Anderson has given up on life. That is, until he meets Kurt Hummel - a boy who's staying strong even though his life is falling apart. Multi-chap. Klaine. Full warnings inside.
1. Prologue

**FULL WARNINGS:** **character death, depression, self-harm, suicide attempts, psychiatric hospitalization, hospitalization for heart issues, bullying, gay-bashing, homophobia, talk of drug and alcohol abuse, talk of involvement with gangs, talk of ocd**

* * *

><p>[ prologue. ]<p>

* * *

><p>It's funny how one person can have such a huge effect on your life.<p>

Or, in Blaine Anderson's case – the remains of a life he'd been clinging on to. You see, Blaine Anderson hasn't really had what you would call "a life" in little over three years. He's been caged, stifled, and smothered by this horrible dark cloud of anger and anxiety and sadness.

And in fact, more than once, Blaine had tried to end his life. It had only resulted in failures – just like everything else he'd ever done. And with each suicidal thought, with each suicide attempt, death only seemed further and further out of his grasp. Blaine had begun to wonder if he'd ever escape the torture called life, or if he'd just be forced to go through it until he'd gone completely insane.

Blaine had given up on life.

That was when someone came into his life and completely turned it around.

It was fate or destiny or maybe just some freak accident that Blaine Anderson met Kurt Hummel, but once the deed had been done, there was no turning back.

It probably would have been easier, would have been better if Kurt had made a real difference. If Kurt had shown Blaine the goodness that the world had to offer. If Kurt had taught Blaine how to appreciate what he had and not worry about the things he didn't. If Kurt had helped Blaine to believe in hope and happiness and _It Gets Better._

But he hadn't.

Yes, Kurt had turned Blaine's life around, but it had been a full circle.

Blaine may have experienced those things for a moment, but they don't matter anymore. Here he stands, locked away in the bathroom he shares with his sullen roommate, staring at himself in the mirror.

He stands, head held high, chin up, and eyes wide. His face looks hollow, and there's a sallow tone to his skin, an incredible darkness to his eyes, but Blaine's used to that by now. He takes a deep breath, calming himself. Puck will be gone for an hour, now is the time to do this.

It's amazing Blaine has even gotten a hold of a blade, but he supposes he should thank the shitty security of the hospital. With another deep breath, Blaine pulls his hand up, and in one, quick movement, drives the blade through the skin of his wrist. Blood beads in a line immediately, stark against the white of his skin.

Blaine has cut many times before – it's a natural reflex now. Any time he's upset, his wrists itch, ache, _long_ for that sharp flick of pain. But this is different. This time, Blaine isn't going to stop at one or two or three cuts. This time Blaine is going to keep going until he bleeds dry.

Blaine can't help but smile, taking a shaky breath.

Maybe this will be the time it works.

He cuts again, the blade coming down right underneath the last cut. More blood pools on top of his skin, running down his arm, dripping into the sink.

Blaine cuts again.

And again.

And again.

He keeps going, and by now his arm is a mess of flesh, blood seeping from his skin and into the tiny sink. Blaine turns the water on as the red glares up at him, and he continues to smile lazily as the blood loss starts taking effect. He wonders briefly how long he's been in here, cutting away at his skin and letting the blood fall freely, running him dry. With a heavy sigh, he decides he doesn't care.

Blaine sits down on the toilet, keeping his arm over the sink. He leans forward, resting his head on the edge of the porcelain counter, and closes his eyes, praying desperately for death to finally take him away.

But as usual, with the click of a door, he fails.


	2. Chapter 1

[ one. ]

* * *

><p>Dalton Academy prided itself in being a school of order, routine, and poise.<p>

The students of Dalton Academy were always well-behaved and focused. There was rarely any trouble, and the same pad of blank detention slips had been sitting on the teachers desk for years now. No one ever expected anything exciting to happen at Dalton Academy – it was much too serious a boarding school, where the boys focused on academics and performance rather than the drugs and alcohol most public schools had trouble with.

But just a week ago, there was an exception.

It was well into the night when an ambulance came blaring into the parking lot of Dalton Academy, and if the students weren't already up and peering down the hallway of room two-fifteen, they were now, watching as paramedics carried away a young boy on a stretcher, calling orders that nobody could quite make out the through the haze of panic and confusion.

As the paramedics disappeared, and the ambulance departed with its sirens still blaring, teachers came walking through the hallways, herding students back into their dorms, skirting around the questions while threatening detention and expulsion to the kids who wouldn't cooperate.

It wasn't until the next day that word got around.

Nick Augustine had found his roommate on the floor of their bathroom, unconscious, but breathing. An open bottle of sleeping pills had been found on the counter.

Overdose.

It was the second time Blaine Anderson had tried to commit suicide.

.

.

Blaine's biting his lip as he walks carefully through the doors of the UC Neuroscience Institute. His mother's got a bony hand on the small of his back, striding on his right side. On Blaine's left, his father carries his luggage, walking just a space farther away from them.

His father is upset – as he has every right to be. Blaine knows he's a disappointment, he knows he's a failure. That's _why _he tried to kill himself. Everything and everyone would be so much better off without him – if only he'd succeeded.

Blaine swallows hard, keeping his eyes locked forward.

Another pair of double doors, and they've entered the Mood Disorders Center.

Now that he's recovered from the overdose, he'll be recovering from the real, scarring issue – his depression. He'll be spending a month here, working with therapists and speakers, getting all his problems out and doing what he can to deal with them. He'll get a handle on his mental illness, be put on anti-depressants, and with a real smile on his face, be sent right back to Dalton.

Or at least that's what everyone thinks is going to happen.

But Blaine knows better.

He's been traveling this road for a good three years now. He's seen the lowest points of this disease, and he knows right now that he won't ever see the highest. He's tried – he has – but it's all been a waste. Nothing is ever going to get better, and Blaine has accepted it. Now, he's simply waiting until death finally comes to claim him, whether it be his own doing or not.

His mother leads him to the front desk, finally letting go of his back. Blaine relaxes, breathing a little easier.

"Blaine Anderson," she tells the receptionist. "Dr. Arnold sent us over here. Blaine's made it through his seventy-two hour suicide watch, and now he's here for treatment. Six weeks, I think it was?"

Blaine looks away from the receptionist, and involuntarily, his gaze moves to his father. He's standing tall, a hardened expression on his face, and he seems to be avoiding Blaine's eyes. Blaine turns back with a sigh, internally groaning. The secretary is looking through her files, nodding as she pulls out a piece of paper.

"Ah, yes," she says. "Blaine Anderson. You'll be in room one-twenty-five with Noah Puckerman."

Blaine nods, biting his cheek. It's only been a minute, and he's already feeling uncomfortable.

"And your nurse is Ms. Emma Pillsbury," the receptionist continues, standing up and hobbling around the side of her desk. "Now, come on, I'll show you to your room."

Blaine follows, swallowing back a noise of frustration.

One thing Blaine's noticed about this hospital is that it's bright. White walls, white floors, white ceiling – everything is obnoxiously bright, burning his eyes. Not only that, the hospital is nearly entirely sterile – every surface is clean, not a speck of dust or dirt in sight. It's unnerving, really.

And his room is no exception.

Two beds on opposite walls with white pillows and blue and white blankets. There are two desks and two shelves right next to the beds, all of which are empty. The walls are free of posters or pictures – and only on Noah's side is there any sort of indication someone is living here. His bag rests on the floor next to his bed, a sweatshirt hangs on one of the bedposts, and what looks to be his own blanket is folded at the end of his bed.

"Now," the receptionist starts, grabbing Blaine's attention again, "there is housecleaning – they come around when you're at group or in a lecture, but you are expected to pull your own weight. Beds will be made before you go to breakfast, and all dirty clothes go in the hamper by the door, alright?"

Blaine nods.

"Good," the receptionist replies. "And also – anything you want to bring into this room will be checked at the front desk. You are not allowed to have any medication, any razors – though you will be given fresh disposable ones each morning for shaving. You may not have pocket knives, lighters, and also – no cell phones."

Blaine nods again.

The receptionist looks almost surprised for a second – Blaine can tell she was probably surprised he took the cell phone thing so easy, but really, who would be calling or texting him? It's not like anyone cares.

"Well, feel free to get settled in," she continues. "There's a lecture currently going on, but group is at eight o'clock sharp. Ms. Pillsbury will be here in a few minutes to fill you in."

"Alright," Blaine says, finally speaking.

With a final nod, the receptionist exits the room, leaving Blaine to face his parents.

"So," he says awkwardly. "You should probably get going . . . the nurse – "

He's pulled into a bone-crushing hug, face smashed against his mother's collarbone.

"Mom," he chokes out. "Mom – seriously – "

She lets go, and he takes a deep breath, looking up at her curiously. Tears sparkle in her eyes as her lips quiver. Gentle fingers grip Blaine's upper arms, and for a fleeting moment, he feels young again – vulnerable, dependent, and just wanting his mother to hold him, whispering softly in his ear that everything's going to be alright. He swallows hard, trying to shake the feeling.

"Blaine," she breathes, her voice cracking. "Honey, I'm so sorry. I – I feel sick right now. I just can't believe I let this happen." Her fingers dust over Blaine's jaw, her palm coming up to cup his face. He wants to lean into that hand, wants to let his eyes flutter shut, but Blaine remains strong.

"Again," his mother continues in a choked whisper. "Blaine, I let you drive yourself to the point of suicide again, and I feel so, so awful. I've just – I've never been able to deal with this. I've never known how to help you, and I need you to know how sorry I am." She shakes her head, pulling Blaine into a gentler hug.

Blaine can't even bring himself to hug back.

Not with his father's gaze bearing down on him like that. Not with his mother's apology feeling so hollow. He knows the truth – they really don't have to lie. Blaine knows he's nothing but a worthless waste of human life. There's just no denying it, no matter how many times his mother says she's sorry – Blaine _knows _that she would be better without him. Everyone would.

At last his mother pulls back, but she leans right back in to kiss Blaine's forehead. He forces a sad smile as she straightens up, staring down at him with her watery eyes.

"We'll see you in a week, okay, sweetheart?"

Blaine nods, wishing they would just leave.

His mother turns towards the door, but his father hesitates. "Good luck, son," he says, voice gruff.

Blaine swallows hard, nodding. "Goodbye," he says quietly.

"Goodbye, sweetheart," his mother says quietly, and resting her head on her husband's shoulder, the two of them leave the room.

Blaine sighs – loud and frustrated as he drags himself over to his bed. He collapses onto it, head spinning. Thoughts are racing through his mind, everything dawning on him now that he's here, about to start the deep and serious treatment. There's so much to worry about, so many things that should make him anxious, but all he feels is numb.

Blaine knows that tonight and tomorrow and the rest of his stay here, everyone's going to be digging into his mind, trying to see what he sees and help him get out of this overwhelming darkness, but it's not ever going to work, now is it? Blaine expects people to get frustrated with him. He expects people to force him into things, making him think back and relive all the shit that he went through and all the horrible mistakes he's made, but in reality _nothing will work._

And you know it's funny.

Blaine's made a lot of mistakes, he knows.

But there's only one thing he'll ever truly regret, and that's missing his chance.

He _failed._

He's still alive.

.

.

Blaine's pulling clothes out of his bag, folding and stacking them, not quite sure why he's doing this – but it's while he's doing it that a knock sounds at his door. It opens with a creak, and Blaine turns around nervously, eyes meeting the woman entering the room. She's tiny and bug-eyed, orange-red hair framing her face.

"Hello," she says, her smile so bright that it nearly blinds Blaine. "I'm Emma Pillsbury – your nurse." She holds out her hand, and Blaine reluctantly shakes it.

"Blaine Anderson," he says. "Though I'm sure you already knew that," he mumbles, pointing awkwardly to the clipboard in her other hand.

Emma nods. "Well," she starts. "We've got just under fifteen minutes before you're supposed to be at group, so why don't we get acquainted?"

Blaine says nothing, biting his lip.

"Okay," Emma says. "Well . . . I'm Emma. I've got a husband named Will – Will Schuester. I kept my last name because it was easier for the job. A lot of patients know me as Mrs. Pillsbury, and I still receive letters from old patients addressed like that."

Blaine really doesn't look like he's interested, but Emma continues anyway.

"What else? Well, I like gardening, baking, and going to the local community theater with my husband. I would like to have kids some day, but I'm pretty content with only having my patients right now."

Blaine nods, pressing his lips together.

"And what about you, Blaine?" Emma presses. "Tell me a little about yourself."

Blaine takes a deep breath. "Well, there really isn't much," he says, rubbing his neck. "I attend Dalton Academy in Westerville, Ohio – or I did. I was in my school's glee club – the Warblers, but after a loss at Sectionals, there wasn't much for us to do." He pauses for a moment, thinking, but he can't come up with anything good, and it really starts to hit him how much of a life he's lost in the past two years – specifically the last couple of months.

"Anything else?" Emma asks.

Blaine shrugs. "I'm gay – if that makes a difference to you."

"It doesn't," she replies simply, and a scheming look enters her eyes, making Blaine wary. "Well," she starts. "We should save the elaboration of that for another time, because I do believe I should show you your way to group.

She stands up, dusting off her scrubs, and Blaine follows reluctantly behind her.

.

.

It's kind of funny.

How people think of insane asylums and picture them as these dark, dank, desolate place, with small cell-like rooms and grimy walls and shady lighting, looking like it were straight out of an old Hollywood horror film. Blaine's certainly been guilty of this line of thought before.

But in reality, as Blaine walks down the halls, it's quite the opposite. This place is clear and sterile, everything organized in a neat, orderly way. Even Emma's pace is brisk, her feet making odd little clips as she walks. Everyone seems to be on a schedule, no one sharing glances or waves or even brief "hello"s. And then there's Blaine, slugging behind Emma and dreading what's to come.

Just the atmosphere in this hospital makes him feel alone.

They round a corner, entering a dead-end hallway, and Blaine takes a deep breath. Emma turns sharply to the right, opening up a door and issuing Blaine inside. She gives him a pat on the shoulder as he steps into the room.

Every head in the room turns toward them, and immediately Blaine eyes up the man who appears to be the doctor.

"Hello," Emma says brightly. "Doctor Lancaster – your newest member."

He looks around, smile upturning his lips.

"Come on," Emma says, grabbing Blaine's shoulders and leading him forward.

"What's your name, son?" Lancaster asks.

"Blaine," he says, taking a deep breath. "Blaine Anderson."

"Welcome, Blaine," Lancaster says, taking Blaine's hand in his and giving it a firm shake. "I'll take it from here, Emma."

She nods, letting go of Blaine and wishes him luck before leaving the room. Blaine looks back anxiously as she leaves, already missing the comfort she had somehow given him.

"So, tell us, Blaine," Lancaster says, pulling Blaine back, "what brought you here?"

Blaine looks around the room nervously. Everyone looks tired, lifeless, with a dead quality to their eyes. He sure does fit in.

"Uhh . . . my parents," Blaine answers finally.

Lancaster shakes his head as a few people snicker. "No, Blaine. Why did they bring you here? What's bothering you?"

Blaine takes another deep breath, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He swallows hard before saying quietly, "I tried to commit suicide. Again."

Lancaster nods, pressing his lips together.

"Many others here have been in that same place, Blaine. Here, you don't have to worry about people judging you."

Blaine nods, unsure of what else to say.

Because he's not worried about people judging him. He's gotten past that – has been past that for a long time now. What he _is_ worried about is people trying to help him. People forcing him to do things he's not ready to do – talking, remembering, recounting. He's afraid of the treatment, of the medication, of the therapy.

He's afraid of getting better.

Or rather, trying to.

Because no matter how hard they try, Blaine doesn't think he will.

.

.

Group isn't terrible.

Blaine doesn't like it, but he gets through it. Lancaster does try and get him to open up, to basically tell his whole life story, but he eventually sees that Blaine's not going to budge. He respects that and backs off. For that, Blaine is thankful.

Blaine's relieved when they're finally released, and he practically races for the door. He's halfway down the hall when he realizes he doesn't know where he's going. He stops short, backing up into someone.

"Sorry – I'm sorry," he stutters, involuntarily putting his arms up.

"Dude, it's fine," the guy says, stepping back. He's got a scraggly Mohawk, tanned skin, and scruff dusting his jaw. "It's Blaine, right?"

Blaine nods.

"I'm Puck," he says, offering his hand. "I'm your roommate."

Blaine shakes his hand carefully. "Puck?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Real name's Noah," he replies. "But you call me that and it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Blaine chuckles, nodding again.

"You think I'm kidding," Puck says with a smile. "But I'm really not."

He begins walking slowly down the hall, and Blaine follows, making note of where they're walking so he won't get lost tomorrow.

"So, suicide, eh?" Puck asks as they round a corner.

"Yep," Blaine says, voice small.

"Someone put you up to it, or - ?"

Blaine shakes his head, a little taken aback by that assumption. "No, no. It was all me. I've got – well, everyone says I have depression."

"What do you mean 'everyone says'?" Puck asks, looking over at him.

"I'm not sure," Blaine admits with a sigh. "But you think I'd know if I did. You think I'd be able to feel like something was wrong, like it really was an illness. But I don't. Killing myself feels pretty right, to be honest."

"Well, of course you'd say that," Puck retorts. "Seems like the easiest way to deal with the pain, doesn't it? That way you don't have to work through it."

"Oh, it's not just that," Blaine assures with a dry, humorless laugh. "You have no idea how many people want me dead."

Puck doesn't say anything, and Blaine hopes he's taken it as his cue to stop asking questions.

"What about you?" Blaine asks, heaving a deep breath. "What are you doing here?"

"Drug addict," Puck replies. "I was also involved with a gang. I might have PTSD. We're working on that."

Blaine looks at the ground, raising his eyebrows. "Well . . . I feel inadequate."

"Why?" Puck asks, looking surprised.

"No reason," Blaine replies, shaking his head.

Puck nods, pressing his lips together. They walk the rest of the way to their room in silence. Once inside, Blaine goes straight to his bed, collapsing to the hard mattress and curling up in a fetal position. He feels the backs of his eyes burn and shuts them tight, refusing to let any tears through.

He doesn't want to be home. He doesn't want to be at Dalton. He doesn't want to be here.

He doesn't want to be anywhere.

He just wants to be free.

Free of the pain, of the worry, of the fear. He doesn't want to have to deal with people fussing over him and keeping an eye on him and trying to help him. He doesn't want to deal with anything.

More than anything, he just wants to be dead.

.

.

Blaine has one hour before curfew. Puck's left, and he can't stand being alone. So now he's wandering the hospital, staying in space of the building that he's allowed. He doesn't really know where he's going or what he's looking for, but does it really matter?

It's just the same thing, over and over again. No matter where he is, no matter who he's surrounded by, he has nowhere to go and no one to go to. He's utterly alone, and he's accepted that. He just wishes everyone else would do the same. And in fact, most of the time he just wants to be left alone. He's sick of people keeping their eyes on him, watching his every move, nosing in on his thoughts. They don't understand; no matter how many times they say they do – they don't.

And you know, maybe things would be a lot easier if people just listened to Blaine. If they gave him the time and the space that he needed, maybe he could _try_ to work through everything.

But no one does, and Blaine doesn't try, and that's when he ends up with a broken noose and a palm full of pills that never get digested.

Blaine chews on his lip as he walks around aimlessly. He looks ahead, but sees nothing, and the sounds around him seem muffled, as if his ears are filled with cotton. The light feels dim, dark, and he starts to wonder if the world was ever a bright place, or if he simply imagined it.

Outside, the sun is shining, traffic rumbling through the streets of Cincinnati, people talking, smiling, laughing. Blaine supposes it must be a beautiful day. He just wishes he could see it.

Blaine sighs, pulling his gaze away from the window and continues to walk forward. He's nearing the cafeteria now, and the smell of food makes him nauseous. His appetite has been completely fucked for the past few months, and the nurses are slowly easing him into eating again, but it's not easy. And these obnoxious smells aren't helping.

Blaine's turning away, bringing a hand up to his mouth when he hears something.

Crying.

Someone's crying – soft and muffled.

Blaine lowers his hand. He walks forward again, his eyebrows creasing together as he looks for the source of the noise. He rounds the corner, and there sits a guy, head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking horribly, and he seems to be trying desperately to calm himself.

"Excuse me," Blaine says quietly. "Are – are you okay?"

It's a stupid question, Blaine should know. He gets asked that question thirty times a day, and it's always the same answer.

However, the guy looks up, and Blaine's a little startled. He's somewhere around Blaine's age, and underneath the puffy, bloodshot eyes and red nose, he's really quite beautiful. His hair is light brown, his eyes a startling blue – or are they green? Blue-green? Blaine swallows hard, alarmed by this change in his thoughts.

"Sorry," the guy says out of reflex.

"What are you apologizing for?" Blaine asks, confused. "You're obviously upset. And in a hospital. Surely there's a good reason for crying."

The guy bites his lip, shaking his head.

"I'm Blaine," he says, and he sits down carefully next to the guy, offering him his hand.

"Kurt," he says, giving Blaine's hand a shake. He reaches up, wiping his eyes and sniffling.

"Do you – are you comfortable with telling me what's wrong?" Blaine asks, though he has no idea why. He can barely deal with his own problems, why is he suddenly caring about someone else's?

"I just – realization has finally hit me, I guess," Kurt says, heaving a deep breath. He glances at Blaine, and visibly relaxes. "My dad had a heart attack," he says quietly. "Second one in a year, and it's – it was a lot worse than the first one. It's been a really long day."

Blaine nods, pressing his lips together. "I'm sorry."

"No, no – it's fine," Kurt says quickly. "Don't be. It's – it's not your fault."

"Still," Blaine says. "I can't imagine this is fun for you."

"It's not," Kurt agrees. "But thank you, anyway. For – for talking to me. Everyone else has ignored me today. My family's in shock, and I guess everyone else is too wrapped up in their own problems – not that I blame them."

Blaine nods, turning his eyes away from Kurt.

"So, what about you?"

"What?" Blaine asks, looking back over at him.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt asks gently, sniffling again.

"Oh," Blaine says, nodding. "Yeah, I – um . . . I – my brother," he says, and he's not sure why his first instinct is to lie, but it may have to do with the fact he's not exactly comfortable talking about his depression or whatever it is. Suicide tends to freak people out. "He got in a car crash. Major head trauma."

Kurt nods, eyes soft as he looks at Blaine sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," Blaine says with a forced half-smile. "We're hoping he pulls through."

"Well, best of luck to you then," Kurt says, and then pauses. "I – I should be going. My brother's probably looking for me." He stands up, and Blaine follows.

"Right, I – I was just on my way back to my brother's room," Blaine stutters, swallowing back the nervous lump in his throat.

"Will I see you around again?" Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Possibly," Blaine says, licking his lips.

"I hope so," Kurt says, and he smiles. "See you later, Blaine."

He turns, walking away.

"Goodbye, Kurt," Blaine says quietly, and his lungs feel heavy.

He really doesn't know what's just hit him, but for a moment, he felt almost normal. Not like before the depression and the suicide attempts, but a whole lot less like the hopeless mess he's become.

And that's got to count for something, right?

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This fic hits so close to home in so many ways. In fact, I'd made a promise to myself previously to never write a fic that took place in a psychiatric hospital, but I guess my subconscious needs to get a lot out. So, here we are.


	3. Chapter 2

[ two. ]

* * *

><p>Blaine's never felt so exhausted.<p>

It's been a long few days, a long few months – hell, a long few_ years,_ but this is the most tired he's ever felt. His usual exhaustion, coupled with the fact that he hardly got a wink of sleep last night, has him slouching across from Emma as they sit in the main commons.

"How was your first day?" she asks, glancing at him with a smile. "Tiring, I'm guessing."

Blaine nods, resting his cheek in his hand.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

Blaine shrugs, pushing himself up a little. "Not much different," he replies quietly.

Emma nods, looking away from him for a second. "Care to elaborate? What exactly are you feeling that's the same?" Her eyes are soft as she looks at him, kindness clearly sparkling in them, and Blaine relaxes.

He heaves a deep breath, trying to think, but it's hard. This isn't normally something he tries to think about, and it's a reflex to push it away. "Hopeless," he says at last. "Worthless. Like nothing's ever going to get better."

Emma nods, swallowing nervously. "I wouldn't expect anything different," she says, taking Blaine by surprise.

He was expecting a passive aggressive lecture, or a speech of disappointment in the very least. But agreement? It was a shock and a relief in one. And he only gets more confused as Emma continues.

"It's only your second day, Blaine. I don't expect you to suddenly be the happiest man on earth. You've been struggling for how long, Blaine?"

"Three years," he replies dully.

"Three years," Emma repeats, nodding. "That's a long time, Blaine. You aren't going to get better in a day. It's going to take time. The mind is a complex thing, Blaine. You can't heal it the way you heal a cold or the flu. It's going to take a lot of time, a lot of medication, a lot of energy, but you don't have a reason to be hopeless. I know you feel like it, and that is normal. But I don't want you to give up. Not yet, Blaine. Not ever, because you have to know that you can do this. You can get through this. I'm not here to push you into it. I'm not going to rush. I just want to tell you to take your time, stay strong, _don't give up,_ because you will get through this, Blaine. I have faith in you."

Blaine swallows hard. His eyes sting, and he hangs his head.

"Blaine?"

He shakes his head, struggling to answer.

"Talk to me, Blaine. It's what I'm here for." Emma reaches her hand out, pressing her palm flat against the table.

"I just – I don't agree," he says, voice shaky. He lifts his head, looking at her.

Her eyebrows crease together, and she blinks rapidly. "Don't agree with what?"

"Hope," Blaine says, and the first of the tears begin to fall. "Mrs. Pillsbury, I understand what you're saying, and you may believe that I can overcome this, but I know I can't. I know deep inside me that it's not going to get better. Not for me. Other people might be lucky enough, but not me. And I've accepted that. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it's true."

Emma nods, her frown becoming more prominent. "Blaine," she starts heavily, "I can't make you believe anything – I can't. You have to be the one to take that initiative. You have to be the one to decide you can make it better for yourself. Now, you might not believe that it's possible at this time, but when you do – when that moment comes, I'll be here for you. When you decide that you're ready to start getting better, I'll be here to help you."

"Thanks," Blaine says, wiping his eyes carefully, "but don't count on it."

Emma sighs, then presses her lips together.

"Well," she says. "I can see you're far from ready. But I won't give up on you, Blaine. And you shouldn't give up on yourself."

He says nothing, averting her eyes.

He hasn't given up on himself.

Happiness and hope and everything Emma's been talking about have given up on him.

.

.

Today, Blaine learns that he really hates lectures.

It's just the same old bullshit. He sits with everyone else and succumbs to those who "know better." He listens to these people who think they actually have a clue about anything ramble on and on, telling him what he should do. They act like they're so smart, so clever. They act as if they know what Blaine's going through, what he has gone through. And they act as if this is something that he can fix with a snap of a finger.

No, he's not going to give this joker anything.

So he sits slouched in his seat, arms crossed and eyes tracing the pattern of the carpet. He's already heard everything this stupid speaker is saying a million times by tons of different people – his friends, his teachers, his brother, Lancaster, Emma – everyone. He's definitely had enough.

At last, the speaker wraps up today's lecture and wishes everyone a good few hours until they're back late this evening. Blaine groans at the thought of coming back as he drags himself to the door. He feels Puck behind him as they walk down the hall.

"Are lectures always that awful?" he asks bitterly.

Puck laughs. "Oh, come on. It wasn't _that bad_."

"Uh – yeah it was," Blaine says, his eyes widening. "Is this really how I'm going to spend the next month here?" He scoffs, shaking his head.

"You'll get used to it," Puck assures, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Doubt it," Blaine mutters. "God, how are you so calm? Don't you get irritated with everyone?" He looks over at Puck who looks almost confused.

"No," he replies. "I mean I did the first day, I suppose, but I have no reason to be irritated now."

Blaine stares at him dumbly for a second. He can't quite wrap his head around why someone would be okay with the way they're treated here – like stupid little kids who can't understand anything about themselves.

"Are you serious?" Blaine asks, raising his eyebrows. "Don't – don't you get sick of the way everyone acts."

Puck blinks, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Well, like that speaker, like Lancaster – everyone thinks they're so smart. As if they know a thing about me." Blaine scoffs again, a little more disgruntled. "It's just aggravating. They're so high and mighty, treating me like I'm dirt just because I think that I, as well as everyone else would be better off if I killed myself. And all that 'It Gets Better' shit, and – and 'taking the first' step. I'm not interested in any of that. I'm only interested in being dead, and I don't understand why everyone wants to change that." He heaves a deep sigh and gives himself a shake.

"Wait – " Puck says after a second. "Blaine, what about getting better?"

Blaine laughs humorlessly. "Well, that's a big old _never_ _gonna happen_, to be honest. Puck, I'm so fucked up I wouldn't even know where to start. And no matter where I did, I'd always end up right back with something in my hand – a noose, pills, a gun, a knife, I don't know. But it's never going to get better, and I've accepted that."

"Sounds to me like you're giving up," Puck says dryly, and Blaine jolts.

It's like a slap to the face. Is everyone around here stupid? And to think Blaine actually likes Puck.

"You know everyone keeps telling me that," Blaine says, obviously annoyed. "And that's what I'm talking about. You might think you know me, Puckerman, but you don't. I've been through a lot, and I've done this before. I've been in this exact same hospital – when I tried to commit suicide the first time, and you know what? They told me the exact same things back then. Look where I am now - back in this shithole. And I guarantee you, once I'm out of here, I'll either be back in here or dead within a year."

Puck nods, swallowing, and Blaine can tell he's a little shocked.

"I'm sorry," Blaine says in a huff. "But I don't need this kind of thing from other patients. The doctors and nurses – they have control over me. But you don't. And I just – I'm sorry, Puck. I've had this conversation _so many times_, and I know you'll probably keep telling me to stay strong, but I'm not weak. I'm smart. I know where my life is headed, and it would be best just to end it all now. I know that might not be the case for you, but you have to understand that it is for me. You might have a shot at healing and getting better, but I don't. Believe me, I've tried – "

"Have you?" Puck cuts in.

Again, Blaine is caught off guard. "What do you mean?" Blaine asks, confused. "Of course I have."

"Nah, I don't think you have," Puck counters. "Not really. You may have taken your meds, forced yourself to keep going, but you didn't try to get better, did you? If you had, the outcome would've been different. You would've felt some intense emotions. You would've torn yourself apart while you recovered, and that didn't happen, did it?

"I've been here two weeks, Blaine. And I've seen a lot of things about myself I never wanted to, but it worked. I'm not going to be like my father; I'm getting better. And if you really tried, Blaine, you would too. You'd be a whole of hell lot less bitter, and a lot more vulnerable. A lot more broken and scarred than you already are. You're pushing everything back. And that's certainly not trying."

Blaine doesn't know what to say. And honestly, he's a little frightened of the way Puck is looking at him right now. He's standing tall, eyes blazing, and he looks almost dangerous. He takes a deep breath, and begins to walk normally again, turning his eyes from Blaine. Blaine relaxes, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Well," Blaine says heavily. "Maybe you have a point. But still – you don't know me, Puck. And you never will. So, I'll make it clear. You don't judge me, I don't judge you. We have a deal?"

Puck presses his lips together, but finally he opens his mouth, and is he – is he smirking?

"I would say deal," he starts, "but I'm not judging you, Blaine. I'm really not. I'm just telling you the truth."

.

.

Blaine leans over the sink, splashing water onto his face. He breathes deep as he presses his palms against the counter and hangs his head. He closes his eyes, trying to clear the dizziness.

It's only been a day, but being here is much harder than he thought it would be. With everyone breathing down his neck and watching him carefully – he feels like he's going to collapse under the pressure. If he could just _breathe_ for a moment, it would be – well, not easy. Nothing's ever been easy. But it would certainly be less overwhelming.

Blaine sighs, lowering himself down and sitting on the toilet seat. He feels like he's suffocating, the room spinning out of control. A lump forms in his throat, his eyes burning. He swallows hard, blinking fast. But the sobs come anyway, racking his body, and he wraps his arms around his torso, desperately trying to hold himself together.

It's been awhile since Blaine has cried like this. Mostly, he just feels numb. But sometimes the sadness that grips him just becomes too much. It breaks through that empty feeling, and he just can't control himself. He feels the tears fall down his face, the sobs shaking him so badly and so fiercely, it feels like he won't ever be able to get air again. And he just has to wait it out. Let everything escape until he's feeling empty again. Not normal, just plain empty.

"Blaine?"

He hiccups, raising his head. Puck's knocking at the door.

"Blaine, you doing alright?" he asks.

"I'm fine," Blaine says, cursing his shaky voice. He sniffles, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and quickly blowing his nose.

"It doesn't sound like it."

"It's allergy season," Blaine shoots back, tossing the toilet paper in the trash. He glances in the mirror, wiping his red, puffy eyes.

Blaine barges through the doorway, and Puck sighs, watching him go.

"Blaine," he starts. "I – if you need someone to talk to – "

"I'm fine," Blaine repeats sternly. He grabs the sweatshirt from his bed, pulling it over himself. "I'll see you later," he says, hurrying out the doorway before Puck can say another word.

.

.

Blaine's pacing.

Walking back and forth in a steady rhythm, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glued to his ratty sneakers. He reaches up, runs a tired hand over his face, and sighs. Blaine comes to a halt and looks around at his surroundings before sitting down. He's right outside the hospital café, and with a jolt, he realizes this is where he met Kurt yesterday.

And three minutes later – it's where he meets Kurt again.

"Blaine?"

He looks up, surprised – he's not generally addressed in a happy tone. "Kurt," he greets with a nod.

Immediately, Kurt's smile falls, eyes grazing over Blaine's face. "I take it your brother's not doing so well."

Blaine blinks, confused for a fraction of a second before he remembers. "Right – yeah. No, he isn't. He's – he's been unconscious for nearly four days, now."

Kurt frowns, gingerly taking the seat next to him. "I'm sorry," he says quietly.

Blaine shakes his head, waving a hand in dismissal. "Don't be. Really."

"But your brother - " Kurt presses, before Blaine cuts him off.

"What about your dad? How is he doing?" Blaine shifts his weight a little, turning to face Kurt better.

Kurt hesitates, looking down. He twists his fingers together as he say, "He's still unconscious as well. It's the same type of thing that happened last time, and who – who knows? Last time, it took him a week. Now, it might take him a month. We don't – we don't know. We're just hoping for the best, you know?"

Blaine sighs, then bites his lip for a second. "I – I wish there was something I could do."

"You're letting me to talk to you," Kurt points out with a shrug. "I suppose that's a way to help me cope. So – thank you for that. Again."

"What's he like?" he asks softly after a minute.

Kurt looks taken aback. "My – my dad?" he asks.

"Yeah," Blaine says.

Kurt shakes his head slightly, a smile crawling across his lips as he looks down. "My dad is incredible," he says. "He's – he's always been so supportive of me, even if it's in his own special way," he says with a laugh, and then he pauses. "Umm . . . " he heaves a deep breath. "Hoping it won't scare you away, but for future reference – I'm gay. If you couldn't tell."

Blaine nods, licking his lips. And ignoring the images that flash through his mind, he forces out, "Hoping it won't scare you away, but so am I."

Kurt tries to hide the smile that grows wider, but fails, nodding again. "Anyway – my dad. He um – he's always done what he can to stick up for me and my right to love who I want. We've hit rough patches. My mom, she – she died when I was eight, and it – it took us awhile to get back on our feet, but we did. And eventually he got remarried, and that – that was really hard for me. My step-brother bonded with him so easily, and I – I got jealous. That was really a hard thing to get through. I was so . . . so lacking in self-confidence. I just felt like my dad was being stolen away from me, but my dad always made sure to tell me that wasn't the case. And once he and Carole got married, things were much easier. And we've – we've been a family ever since."

Blaine really isn't sure what to say.

But it's not because he can't handle being social – it's – it's Kurt's story. His mother's dead, and now his father could be dying. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. It sounds like Kurt's life has just been shitty happening after shitty happening, and yet there he sits with a smile on his face.

Blaine can't even fathom that.

Blaine doesn't understand how he can sit there and think about the positive things and not let everything get to him. Blaine doesn't understand how Kurt can walk around with that optimistic attitude. How he can just push through everything and make it out with his head held high and not a frown or a tear in sight.

Blaine could never do that – just look at him.

He has it pretty easy compared to Kurt.

Granted, his parents aren't really parents, but at least he's in a safe school. He has his brother, he has the Warblers, he has good grades, he had a chance at success – until he threw all of it away.

Right now, Blaine just doesn't even feel like he deserves to be upset. He feels like he should be happy, that he should be willing to live. He shouldn't feel like this, he shouldn't want to die, he shouldn't want to throw away the life that he has, because goddamnit, just look at Kurt. This kid's life is falling apart, but he's still holding on. He's holding on for his father, for his family, for himself, and that – that just amazes Blaine.

"Blaine?"

He shakes his head, looking up at Kurt. "I'm sorry – what?"

"Are you okay?" Kurt asks. "You look upset. I'm sorry if anything I said – if it brought back memories or – "

"Oh – no!" Blaine says quickly. "No, no – I'm fine. It's just - you're just so positive. I don't – I don't get it."

Kurt shrugs. "Well, it's better than thinking about the worst-case scenario. And I mean – just look at you. It doesn't seem like your brother's in a much better state, but you don't seem like you're expecting the worst."

Blaine bites his lip, looking away from Kurt. "Right," he says quietly. "Yeah, I guess – I guess you're right."

"So what about your brother?" Kurt asks. "What's he like."

Blaine hesitates. He hasn't seen Cooper in quite awhile, and since his first suicide attempt, things have been difficult between them. It's not Cooper's fault though – it's Blaine's. Cooper's been trying to help, trying to be there for him, but Blaine's never let him help. Blaine ignores Cooper, just like he ignores everyone else who tries to support him.

Blaine shifts his weight, taking a deep breath. "Well, like your dad, he's been very supportive of me. He's always had my back – through everything, but I haven't seen him much in the past few years." _And that's probably why I'm so much more fucked up than I could be. _"He – he left home when I was eleven – went off to college. I didn't come out until I was fifteen, and it was so much harder without him there. He was the first person I came out to, but months later when I told my parents, when the kids at school found out officially, he wasn't there. And it was – yeah, it was difficult. But he's always been there when he could, and I don't tell him enough, but I appreciate it."

"This must be so hard on you," Kurt whispers, shaking his head.

Blaine shrugs. "It is. But I know Cooper. I know he'll get better and pull through this."

"See, you're optimistic too," Kurt says, smiling slightly. "Probably the best we can do in our situations."

Blaine swallows hard, nodding. "Yeah," he mutters quietly. Oh, if Kurt only knew. Blaine presses his lips together, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest.

"Um, you – you didn't tell me much about your brother," he says, wishing to change the subject.

Kurt smirks, folding his hand together. "Finn . . . he's something else. He's the quarterback of the football team – kind of opposite of me, really. But he's a good guy. He's always stuck up for me, even in the smallest ways he could, and I really appreciate that. We – we bicker a lot, but it's actually been pretty easy to slip into the role of brothers."

"Well, that's – good," Blaine says awkwardly, and suddenly, he just can't shake this feeling – this mix of jealousy, and self-pity, and shame. He regrets bringing up families now, because his is so shitty, and even though Kurt's family has gone through a lot, it seems – they're still a family. They still love each other and are there for each other, and Blaine – he's just never had that.

"Hey, listen," Kurt starts. "Um – I have to be getting back soon, but would – would you like to get some coffee with me? We can just sit here – talk about other things for awhile."

Blaine looks up, surprised. Nobody – nobody ever really volunteers to spend time with him. Not so easily like that. Though he does wish somebody would.

"Uh – sure," he says, almost uncertain, but then remembers – "but I – I don't have any money."

"Don't worry," Kurt assures. "I'll take care of it."

And with a smile, he stands up, leading the way into the cafeteria. Blaine follows after, watching Kurt with a twist in his heart, so completely and utterly confused.

Because for the first time in a long time, he's looking forward to tomorrow.

For the first time in a long time, Blaine feels like he has something to live for – at least for a day.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well, I'm making progress. Actually, I'm currently writing chapter six. There's just a_ ton_ of editing that goes into this, and I owe a _huge_ amount of thanks to my betas, Stephanie and Lauren.


	4. Chapter 3

[ three. ]

* * *

><p>It's quiet this morning, as usual.<p>

Things have been a lot quieter in the Hummel-Hudson house ever since Burt had been put in the hospital. It's usually only Kurt and Finn around, since Carole stays with Burt most nights. All of this is taking a huge toll on their family, but everyone's trying to find ways to stay strong, cope, and be there for each other.

It feels weird to think about it, but Kurt's coping because he has Blaine. He has Blaine who's in a similar situation, who's hurting like he is, and who can relate to and comfort Kurt as Kurt can do in return. It's nice, and it's keeping him sane.

Kurt rubs a finger across his eye as he sits down at the kitchen table, yawning. Finn sets down a mug of coffee in front of him, sitting down in the seat opposite

"How you'd sleep last night?" Kurt asks conversationally.

"Fine," Finn replies quietly. "You?"

"Alright," Kurt says dryly.

They both know they're lying to each other. They didn't get home until late last night and they'd stayed up for God knows how long, brains running a million miles a minute. Night is a dangerous time. Night is when they think, letting their minds run wild with the possibilities of what could happen to Burt.

"So," Finn starts. "We're heading straight from school to the hospital, right?"

Kurt nods, pressing his lips together.

"Kurt?"

He looks up, clearing his expression as he meets Finn's eyes.

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong?" Finn asks, raising his eyebrows. "You look upset."

"Oh – it's – it's nothing," Kurt assures, standing up and walking over to the sink where he rinses out his coffee mug.

"Kurt," Finn says again, warningly. "I'm serious. I mean, I know this must be stressful for you, but why are you acting like this? You know you can trust me, right?"

Kurt turns around, eyebrows creasing together. "Finn, what are you talking about?"

He shrugs nervously. "I feel like you're pushing us away, Kurt. I know it's hard, but that's why we have to be there for each other."

Kurt blinks, utterly confused. He thought he'd been handling everything well – much better than last time. "Finn, I'm fine," he assures. "I don't get – how am I pushing everyone away?"

"You don't really talk to me," Finn starts carefully. "And when I ask you what's wrong, you don't give me a straight answer. And – and what about when you leave Burt's room every day – where are you sneaking off to?"

Kurt sighs, shaking his head. "I go to get coffe."

"For hours at a time?" Finn asks, skeptical.

"Okay, fine," Kurt sighs, frustrated. "If you must know, I met someone."

"You met someone?" Finn asks, even more disbelieving. "In a hospital?"

"He was visiting his brother," Kurt explains. "He got in a car crash, and he has some pretty bad brain trauma. Blaine's been visiting him every day."

"Blaine," Finn notes, nodding his head. "And so – what about him?"

"I don't know," Kurt says, shrugging. "I guess we're just using each other to cope. We – we talk about how Dad and his brother are doing, and – and we talk about other things. I guess- I don't know. I guess we're friends."

"Just as long as he doesn't become more important than Burt," Finn says with a nod.

Kurt narrows his eyes, shaking his head. "Finn," he says seriously. "I think that you should know by now – no one's more important than my dad."

.

.

Blaine sits slumped in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. He keeps glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes until he's out of here. To be honest, he doesn't understand what the point of group is. It does absolutely nothing for him, and he'd rather be somewhere else – anywhere but here.

"Alright, everyone," Lancaster says, gathering their attention. "Now that we've all gotten a chance to talk with our smaller groups, I want you all to tell me what you told you group members – what are you most looking forward to right now? We'll go around the room, starting with Jake - go."

Blaine sighs, shifting his weight slightly. He hadn't even talked with his small group, and he has nothing to share.

"Blaine, what are you most looking forward to?" Lancaster asks in that overly gentle voice of his, and Blaine heaves another sigh.

"Death," he says.

Lancaster's smile drops. "Blaine, we're not joking around anymore."

"I'm not," Blaine says, sitting up straighter. "I'm being honest."

"The whole point of this exercise is to give a reason to keep fighting," Lancaster says. "Now, Blaine, what are most looking forward to?"

"My answer's still the same," Blaine says quietly.

"Blaine, come on," Puck whispers from next to him.

"Don't start on me, Puckerman," Blaine snaps.

Puck is quiet for only a moment, but then he drops the bombshell.

"Blaine, don't – don't you want to get better?"

Blaine feels everyone's gaze on him, the room going silent as they wait for him to answer. He pulls his eyes away from Puck's, feeling his cheeks burn. God, fuck him for bringing this up. Blaine just wanted to survive the next few weeks until he got out – which is ironic because he knows it'll be only a few months at the most before he's back in here for a third suicide attempt.

Now everything's out in the open, and Blaine feels vulnerable. He may have been trying to fight the nurses and doctors and psychiatrists, but he's always tried to give them what they want – which is him getting better, making progress. But you know, he really is sick of that. He's sick of pretending, and he doesn't want to do it anymore. It's time he's honest with everyone, not just Emma.

"No," he says at last. His voice is quiet, his sarcastic front disappearing. He takes a deep breath, and it rattles in the silence.

"No?" Puck asks, evidently confused. "Why not?"

"I just don't," Blaine says, looking down at his hands as he twists them together. "It's not going to happen anyway."

"Blaine," Puck starts softly. "Look, I – I know it's difficult. When I first came here, I just wanted out. I wanted to get my hands back on heroin, back on cocaine, back on ecstasy . I wanted to go straight back into that life. I didn't take a moment to stop and think about what it would be like to get better. To think about the life I could have outside of the drugs, the gang, the alcohol." He shakes his head, shame visible in his expression. "Not one nurse could get me to cooperate in the beginning. I was put in the padded room multiple times because I was too violent. Every night I screamed out, suffering through the withdrawals, but Blaine, it was all worth it. Because now, three weeks later, I'm making better choices, I'm trying to restart my life. And I – "

"It's not that I haven't tried," Blaine cuts in, exasperated.

"That's a lie," Puck says, quiet. "And you know it."

"I've thought about it," Blaine whispers, and a lump rises in this throat. "I've thought about trying, taking that first step, but what's the point? I'm not going to get better. I know it."

"Blaine, I thought the same thing," Puck says, thumping his hand against his chest. "At first, I – "

"Well, I'm not you, Puck," Blaine snaps shortly. "I don't have the same problem."

"Blaine – "

"No, look," Blaine says loudly, and he repositions himself in his chair, looking straight at Puck. "Yeah, we're all patients here. We're all fucked up, but not in the same ways. You're a drug addict, Puck. You made that decision yourself. You put those drugs into your body. You stole from your family to buy them. You did this to yourself. I didn't ask for what happened to me."

Blaine's breathing hard, teeth clenched and eyes wild as he stares at Puck, heart racing.

"Blaine," Puck starts, shaking his head. "You have no idea what I – "

"And you have an idea about me?" Blaine counters, raising his voice. "Do you have any idea what I went through? No, you don't." He practically spits in Puck's face. "I didn't ask to be bullied every single day of my life," Blaine starts, his voice low, guttural. "I didn't ask to be beaten within an inch of my life during my freshman year of high school. I didn't ask for my parents' lack of support. I didn't ask my brother to just up and leave me. I didn't ask to change schools and go to a place where I felt even more alone – despite the safety. I didn't ask for depression or whatever the fuck this is, Puck. But there's something wrong with me, and I have to deal with it now, and the best way I know how – to kill myself. That's the only way this pain will ever end."

"No, Blaine, that's not – "

"Really?" Blaine asks, and he's suddenly on his feet, staring down at Puck. "That's not my only option? There are other options out there? I don't have to do this? I've heard all of that a hundred times, Puck. This isn't the first time I've been here, you know. I tried to kill myself a year ago too. Nothing made a difference. Not even the medication."

"Then you should have come back," Puck says sternly. "Not all anti-depressants work the first time."

"Tell that to my parents," Blaine says with a scoff, his voice brimming with acid. "They didn't give a fuck. All they wanted was for me to be gone. Why do you think they just shipped me off to boarding school in the first place? They didn't want to deal with me anymore, Puck. They didn't care. Not even after I tried to commit suicide."

"But your mom – "

"So maybe she feels guilty," Blaine says, raising his eyebrows. "Maybe she thinks it's her fault. Maybe she doesn't care about my feelings or anyone else's but her own. God, Puck – what don't you get about this? There's nothing here for me. Nothing to keep me going – " He stops short for a second, thinking briefly of Kurt – the beautiful boy who simply waltzed into his life – but quickly shoves that from his brain. "There's no reason for me to get better."

"Yes, there is – "

"No," Blaine says sharply. "Would you stop? I don't care how many times you argue with me on this, I really don't. I don't care what you do to try to help me, because it won't work. No one can help me. No one. I'm too far gone, Puck, and it's best you just give up now."

Blaine turns with a huff, planning to the leave the room. He can't deal with this anymore. Everyone's been watching him for the past few minutes, and most seem to be in awe. But then a hand catches his elbow, and Dr. Lancaster is pulling him back. He yanks his arm back, looking at Lancaster in surprise.

"Blaine, sit down," he says simply. "Group's not over."

"It is for me," Blaine says with snort, and he turns again.

"_Blaine,"_ Lancaster says warningly. "Blaine, stop. Look, we're just trying to help you."

"And what did I just say?" Blaine asks incredulously. "No one can help me. Not you, not Puck, not anyone. It's just not going to work, okay?"

With that, he leaves the room – slamming the door behind him.

.

.

Blaine doesn't know how he ends up here, but as he flops down on the bench, he realizes he's right outside the café. He swallows a lump in his throat and tries to calm himself down. He can feel his blood rushing, his head spinning, his heart racing. He takes a deep breath, cracks his neck, and counts to ten.

It doesn't help.

He's still fuming. Day three, and he's already losing his mind – or what's left of it, that is. He's just _so sick_ of everything. Nobody understands, nobody gets it, and he would just appreciate if they left him alone.

Of course – nobody does.

Blaine looks up as footsteps come curiously close to him. He opens his mouth to ask the person to go away (he's really not in the mood to deal with anyone), but shuts it quickly when he realizes it's Kurt.

Kurt's grin fades as soon as he sees Blaine's face, replaced with a worried frown.

"Are you okay?" he asks, sitting down. "You look upset."

Blaine chuckles dryly. "Yeah, I suppose you could say that."

"What's wrong?" Kurt asks softly.

Just like that, with the gentleness of Kurt's voice, all his anger and frustration seems to melt away. And with a jolt, he realizes that Kurt seems to be the only person who isn't pushing him into talking, into opening up, into getting better. Sure, it probably has to do with the fact that he's lying to Kurt, that Kurt has no idea that Blaine's the patient and not Cooper, but it doesn't mean Blaine appreciates it any less.

"A lot of things," Blaine replies, taking a deep breath.

"Do you feel comfortable talking about it?" Kurt asks.

Blaine hesitates, but gives in. "Like I said – it's a lot of things. Mostly, I'm just frustrated."

"Why?"

Blaine runs a hand through his hair. "Everyone keeps trying to tell me how it'll all be okay, but it's – it's not."

"So your brother hasn't improved, I take it," Kurt says quietly.

Blaine starts, his eyes widening briefly. He's nearly slipped up and confessed the truth. "Uh – no," he says quickly. "He hasn't. And while I'm trying to be positive, I'm just upset with everything acting like it's all okay. Like there's nothing to worry about."

Kurt nods, raising his eyebrows. "I know how that goes," he says. "It's kind of how my friends are reacting, actually. They don't really understand the severity of my situation, and they try to tell me that it'll be alright, but they don't know. It usually makes me feel worse when they comfort me, but you know – what else can I do?"

Blaine heaves another deep breath. "It's just . . . exhausting," he says. "And I'm so sick of hearing it all."

Kurt's quiet for a moment as he chews on his lip. "Well," he says, clapping his hands against his knees. "Care for more coffee?"

Blaine watches as he stands up, putting his hands in his pockets. "How many times are you going to pay for me?" he asks, a reluctant smirk playing at his lips.

"As many times as we get coffee," Kurt replies simply. "Now, come on. I don't have all day."

Blaine presses his lips together, stopping an oncoming grin. He stands up, runs a hand over his tired face, and trails after Kurt into the café. As Kurt goes to order the coffees, Blaine sits down at one of the empty tables, folding his hands together in front of him. Kurt joins him shortly with a nonfat mocha, a medium drip, and a bright smile.

As usual, they fall into easy conversation. Blaine's more careful now to keep up his string of lies about Cooper, choosing sometimes just to brush it off and change the subject. Kurt rambles on about his father, about Finn, about what's going on at school, and Blaine finds himself really listening, holding on to Kurt's every last word. It's nice to drown in someone else's life for awhile, imagining he's right alongside Kurt, for the most part – happy.

But not twenty minutes into their coffee session, someone comes barging into the café.

Kurt turns around and stands up, surprised. "Finn?" he asks. "What's going on?"

"It's Burt," Finn gasps out, and Kurt immediately pales, his face falling. "No, no – it's good," Finn says quickly. "He's awake. Kurt, he just woke up, and – and he's asking for you."

Kurt looks obviously happier, but still as if he's going to throw up. He turns frantically back at Blaine, open his mouth, though no coherent words come out.

"Go," Blaine says. "What are you waiting for?"

Kurt nods. "I'll – I'll see you tomorrow or something – "

"Kurt, come on," Finn urges, holding the café door open.

Kurt sprints from the room after Finn, yelling, "Goodbye, Blaine!" over his shoulder.

Blaine swallows hard, rubbing his face. He's happy for Kurt – as happy as he can possibly be, but there's a small part of him that's . . . upset.

And he doesn't really know why.

.

.

Blaine returns to his room slowly. He pushes open the door with weak arms and moves to his bed, collapsing on it for a good five minutes before he hears a knock at the door. Emma peers into the room, and Blaine feels his heart drop. He'd rather not deal with this right now.

"Hello, Blaine," she says brightly.

"Hi," he mutters, not meeting her eyes. He pulls himself up, sitting hunched over and twisting his hands together.

"So, I hear you snapped at Doctor Lancaster," Emma says quietly, taking a seat next Blaine on his bed.

He nods, chewing on his lip. "Well, actually – I kind of . . . exploded at him."

"Why?"

Blaine sighs heavily, shifting his weight. There are a lot of reasons he dislikes Lancaster. There are a lot of reasons why he dislikes a lot of people at this hospital, but what comes out of his mouth is, "Because. He doesn't understand."

"What doesn't he understand, Blaine?" Emma presses.

Blaine shakes his head, not even sure where to begin. "Everything," he says. "And – and you know what I hate the most?" He pauses. "I hate that he pretends like he does."

"What do you mean?" Emma asks, and Blaine notices that she doesn't look the least bit confused. She looks curious, determined.

"He just – he doesn't know anything," Blaine says, continuing to shake his head as his eyebrows lift. "He doesn't know what I've gone through. He doesn't know what it feels like to be taunted every single day of your life. He doesn't know what it feels like to have people threatening to kill you because of who you love. He doesn't know what it feels like to have your family desert you right when you need them most. He doesn't know what it feels like to go through every day knowing that you have nowhere and no one to go to."

Blaine heaves a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second.

"He thinks that it's so easy – everyone does. They think that a few days in here, a pill a day, and talking are going to get the job done. But it's not. There's too much damage done, and too much damage to come. I'm past the point of coping, because once I go back out there – once I put myself back in the real world, it's all just going to start over. Society looks at me in disgust. Everyone wants me dead. And I'm more than happy to oblige."

"Blaine – "

"I'm serious," he says, looking right into Emma's eyes.

"Blaine, just listen to me," Emma says calmly.

"Are you going to start pretending like you understand?" Blaine challenges, crossing his arms.

"No," Emma says, shaking her head. "I'm not going to pretend that I understand what you're going through, but Blaine, I – I understand what it feels like to be suffering from a mental illness with no desire to get better. No belief that it will."

Blaine blinks, confused. "What – "

"Blaine, I've been dealing with OCD all my life. It took me years before I was willing to get help, and even when I did it was hard to make progress. My parents think I'm insane, and that's all they see – their 'little crazy.' OCD caused a lot of trouble for me, Blaine. It came in the way of my husband's and my relationship, it came in the way of my job – it was awful. But I made it through, Blaine, and someday you will too."

Blaine shakes his head firmly. "No, I don't think – "

"Well, I think," Emma cuts in, "that you're already doing better. Look, I know you don't like Lancaster. I know you don't like listening to lectures and you struggle through group, but something about this place is helping you. Whether it's being away from your life, or someone you've met here – something is helping you."

Blaine raises an eyebrow. "I highly doubt – "

"Blaine, just look at the way you behaved when you first came here," Emma says, and now she's smiling, eyes bright. "You wouldn't open up at all. Lancaster couldn't get anything out of you, and neither could I. You completely ignored everyone, still bottling everything up. But look at what you just told me. Look at how you just ranted. Obviously, you've got a long way to go, Blaine, but this is a start, so don't give up.

"And whatever is helping you progress, don't let it go."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So, it's been awhile since the last update, and I apologize. I've been really active in the Supernatural fandom lately, and I've also embarked on a multi-chap Destiel fic, so.. Klaine has kind of taken the back-burner lately. But thank you to those who are sticking with me, and thank you to my amazing beta, Lauren.


	5. Chapter 4

[ four. ]

* * *

><p>It's Saturday, which means a) Blaine's made it a full week in this hellhole, and b) it's visiting day. Blaine doesn't expect anyone to be coming for him. His parents are both working, and he really wouldn't expect them to come even if they were free.<p>

So after breakfast, when Puck says he'll see him later and everyone departs to meet their families, Blaine stays back, taking his time to dispose of his trash. As patients meet their families, their friends, their neighbors; as people hug and share stories and tear up, Blaine tucks his hands in his pockets and rushes through the hallways as fast as he can without running. He just wants to get back to his room. Go back to sleep until lunch rolls around and he can meet Kurt in the café like they planned.

But when he rounds the corner by the receptionist, he stops short. There's someone very familiar talking to her.

"Blaine Anderson? He's here – he checked in here a week ago? Please, I've been waiting all week to see him."

"Calm down, sweetie. All the patients were just at breakfast. He's either in the cafeteria or on his way back."

"Alright, I – thank you."

He turns, and Blaine feels the breath catch in his chest. "Cooper?"

Cooper looks up, eyes wide, and within seconds, his arms are wrapped tightly around Blaine, Blaine's face pressed firmly in his chest. "Oh, God," Cooper breathes. He hangs his head, resting his chin on top of Blaine's.

Two or three seconds pass by before Blaine tries to push away. "Cooper," he groans. "Cooper, I can't breathe." He's released suddenly, and it takes him a moment to regain proper breathing. As soon as he's got control, he looks up at Cooper, nothing short of surprised. "I – I didn't know you were coming," he says quietly.

_I didn't think you'd even care._

Cooper's eyebrows crease together, and he looks briefly confused. "Of course I was." When Blaine doesn't say anything in return, Cooper looks around awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "So – anywhere we can catch up?"

"The café," Blaine answers automatically, and soon enough, he's leading the way.

.

.

The café, Blaine's noticed, always smells like coffee. Around mealtimes, other aromas may add to it – like oatmeal, hot sandwiches, burgers. It's so much better than the stuff the cafeteria in the Mood Disorders Center.

For Blaine, the large, spacious room has become his safe haven. It's open – surrounded by walls made of glass, but it's also warm and comforting.

And with memories and thoughts of Kurt, it's starting to feel like the only home he's ever had.

It's not a happy home, not in the least. Because just down the halls is Blaine's real home, the home where he's monitored and watched over and just about everyone thinks he's a nutcase, but here – here, he can at least pretend. Here, where nothing but also everything is so simple, where Kurt laughs and smiles and doesn't know the truth about Blaine, here is where it feels like home.

And it's only fitting to bring his brother here. He doesn't want to go back to his room with its open door and small space. He doesn't want to be around the other guys who are harder and tougher and scare Blaine just a little bit. He doesn't want to be around the guys like Puck who are figuring things out and are lucky enough to be on their way to getting out, to getting things right. He just wants to be alone with his brother, acting just like they did in the old days.

Cooper buys them coffee and Blaine sips on it once, but doesn't drink it again. An awkward silence hangs between them, and Blaine wishes so badly it wouldn't. He loves Cooper, he really does, but that doesn't stop the pain. He knows that Cooper's hurt, that Cooper feels unimportant, because if Blaine really loved him, why would he try to kill himself, leaving Cooper behind to deal with the mess?

Then again, Cooper's never made a big effort to be there for Blaine – not until after his first suicide attempt, that is. There was always something bigger and better for Cooper to do. There was always somewhere else for Cooper to go, and Blaine was constantly left in the dust, trying desperately to fend for himself. Even so, Blaine would never blame this on Cooper.

Blaine heaves a deep breath, swallowing hard. "It's not your fault, you know," he says quietly. "It never was. It never will be."

Cooper nods, pressing his lips together. "I wish I could say I agreed with you."

"Cooper, it's me," Blaine says desperately. "It's always been me. – "

"But if I took some initiative," Cooper argues, leaning forward and pointing to himself. "If I had actually done something, Blaine. If I'd taken a second away from my stupid life, maybe you wouldn't have wanted to end yours."

"No," Blaine says, shaking his head. "Cooper, you – "

"I should have made sure you knew you were loved," Cooper says, fighting back tears now; Blaine can see them glistening in his eyes.

"I did know," Blaine says honestly. "At least – I thought – I knew that you cared somewhat. And I'm sorry, Cooper. I'm sorry for putting you in this position, but there's – there's no denying you'd get over it."

"I wouldn't," Cooper says softly. "You know I wouldn't, Blaine. Not if there was something I could have done."

"But you couldn't have," Blaine replies, looking straight into Cooper's eyes. "There's nothing you could have done, Cooper. I've told you all along – there's something wrong with me. Something messed up inside me, and trust me, Cooper – there was nothing you could have said or done that would have stopped me."

Cooper doesn't say anything. He takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair, and then wiping the tears from his eyes. "God, Blaine," he chokes out, voice cracking.

"I'm sorry," Blaine says instantly.

"No, no - " Cooper says quickly, sniffling. "Blaine, don't be. You have no reason to be. You're hurting. I know. And it's bad. I understand that. Blaine, I wish things didn't have to be like this, but I get it. I get why you tried to commit suicide, even if I hate the idea of it. Even if I wish with every fiber of my being that you wouldn't turn to that." He takes another deep, shaky breath. "But at least you're getting help, right? It can only get better from here."

Blaine's still hesitant on believing that, but he nods for Cooper's sake.

.

.

They talk for over an hour, and as time goes on, it becomes easier. They're careful not to mention the suicide attempt again, but keep their conversation light and simple. Cooper tells Blaine about the dog he and his roommate just adopted, and Blaine tells Cooper about how he's developed a somewhat close bond with his own roommate, Puck. Cooper tells Blaine how Scout has chewed up three pairs of his shoes, and after laughing a good few minutes, Blaine tells Cooper that Puck would probably do the same if Blaine didn't keep his shoes with him all the time.

They're walking through the halls now, making sure to stay inside Blaine's allotted perimeter. The halls are actually much quieter than Blaine thought they would be, so he can clearly hear it when Cooper's phone buzzes in his pocket. Cooper pulls it, his expression confused. That is, until he looks at the text. Once he reads it, a smile spreads across his face, and he replies quickly.

"What are you so excited about?" Blaine asks, raising a judgmental eyebrow.

Cooper glances at him a second, biting his lip. "You'll see," he answers. "Come on."

Blaine, nothing short of extremely confused, follows after Cooper. Cooper leads him out into the courtyard, and Blaine looks over his shoulder nervously. "Cooper, I don't know if I'm allowed out here," he hisses.

Cooper waves a hand. "You'll be fine. You're with me. If they get angry with you, I'll make sure to tell them I'm the one who dragged you out here."

Blaine looks back at the doors, heaving a deep breath, but he doesn't say anything. He follows Cooper over to a bench, where Cooper holds out a hand.

"Take a seat," Cooper instructs.

Blaine looks at him skeptically before he does so, feeling very self-conscious.

"Cooper, what's – "

"Alright, guys – come out."

Seemingly out of nowhere, the Warblers form a crowd in front of him – well, the few Warblers Blaine considers his close friends. Wes, David, Nick, Jeff, and Trent are all there – smiling widely at him. Blaine launches out of his seat, throwing himself at them. A tight group hug is formed around him, and before Blaine knows what's happening, he's tearing up, a real, genuine smile lighting up his tired face.

"What are you guys doing here?" he chokes out as everyone backs off.

"Cooper told us it was visiting day," Nick replies. "We couldn't wait to see you, Blaine."

"We've missed you so much," Jeff says, reaching out to pat Blaine lightly on the shoulder.

"It's just – " David starts, breaking off to heave a breath, "it's good to see you alive, bud."

Blaine nods, pressing his lips together.

"And, Blaine?" Nick asks. "I'm sorry. I know we let you down. We're all sorry – "

Blaine shakes his head, holding up a hand. "Stop right there," he says. "I'm not going to let you blame yourselves. Just ask Cooper – we had this conversation earlier. Trust me, there's nothing you could have done. All that matters is that Nick got me here in time. And – and now I'm trying to get better."

_Trying, not succeeding,_ Blaine reminds himself. Come to think of it, he's actually not really trying either, but his friends don't need to know that. He has to give them what they want.

"And you're here," Blaine continues, smiling. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief. "You guys have no idea what this means to me."

"Of course we're here," Wes says, clapping him on the back. "You're our friend, Blaine. _We're here for you_."

"Always," David adds.

"Whenever you need us," Trent says.

Blaine's throat feels tight and his eyes prickle. He nods, pressing his lips together. "Thank you," he says quietly, then laughs to hold in the sobs. Wes wraps an arm around Blaine's shoulder, hugging him awkwardly, but Blaine falls into it, feeling safe.

"So," Nick starts. "You want to tell us how things are going here?"

"Shitty until you showed up," Blaine says, and they all laugh. "No, but seriously – you're right. We need to catch up." He pulls away from Wes, straightening up. "First things first, let's get back inside. I'm not exactly sure if I'm allowed out here."

Everyone chuckles and slowly makes their way inside the hospital. Blaine trails back, walking next to Cooper.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

Cooper just winks and smiles at him.

"Whatever it takes to make you happy again."

.

.

The next several hours seem to last an eternity, and Blaine wishes they would never end. But then five o'clock rolls around, and visiting hours are over. Blaine has dinner in an hour, and everyone else has their families, their _lives_ to get back to. Blaine doesn't blame them either. This hospital is awful. With one last round of hugs, the Warblers say goodbye, and Blaine watches them sadly as they go, wishing he could go with them. No matter how bad things got, there were those rare and special moments like this where they somehow managed to cheer him up.

Blaine turns back, heart heavy as he looks to Cooper.

"Guess you'll be going now, too," he says softly.

Cooper sighs, walking over to him. "I wish I didn't. You know I'd stay if I could."

Blaine nods, swallowing hard. Cooper pulls him into another tight hug, and this time, Blaine hugs back, holding Cooper just as tightly. He can feel the tears stinging his eyes, and they overflow now, melting into the fabric of Cooper's shirt.

"Thank you for everything," Blaine says into his chest.

"I love you," is all Cooper says back.

Somehow, Blaine manages to choke out, "Love you too."

The stay like that for long moment before Blaine pulls back, sniffling. Cooper keeps his hands on Blaine's shoulders, stern and comforting.

"I'll be back in a week, alright?" he says. "Until then, you just keep fighting, okay?"

Blaine nods, unable to speak.

"I believe in you, Blaine," Cooper says, and his voice begins to crack. "I know it's been a long time. I know you've been fighting this for years, but one day you'll make it all the way through. One day you'll win."

Blaine flings his arms around Cooper again, giving him a tight squeeze. Cooper ruffles his hair when he pulls back again. "I'll see you later, little bro."

"Goodbye," Blaine says, and with a sad smile, he watches Cooper head out the door, all the way until he's disappeared around the corner.

Blaine takes a deep breath, trying to get the air back in his lungs. They've never felt so heavy before. Swallowing hard, he turns around, heading to the café. He should be meeting Kurt any minute now, and hopefully their daily coffee date will help take his mind off the fact that he already misses Cooper.

Kurt's waiting just down the hall, and Blaine hopes he hasn't kept him too long.

"Sorry," he says immediately. "I know I'm late. It's been a busy day."

"I can see that," Kurt replies, not at all upset. Blaine breathes a sigh of relief. "Who was that? The person you just hugged?"

And then Blaine's breathless again. He feels the blood drain from his face, and suddenly he's extremely dizzy. His heart pounds violently against his ribcage. "Cooper," he manages to choke out. "C – Cooper's friend."

Kurt nods, and Blaine's heart gives a violent beat as Kurt seems to buy his lie. The dizziness has gotten worse, and Blaine drags himself over to their usual bench, collapsing on top of it. Kurt follows, taking a careful seat.

"How's he doing?" Kurt asks gently. "Cooper?"

"Well," Blaine sighs, thinking fast. "It's – it's officially a coma."

Kurt frowns, his eyes going wide with sadness. "I'm so sorry, Blaine," he says, laying a comforting hand on Blaine's forearm.

"It's not your fault," Blaine replies quietly. His heart is slowing now, his panic gone. Kurt still believes his lie. He's still clear. But God, he needs to be more careful. "How's your dad?" Blaine asks lifelessly, playing it all up.

"He's getting better," Kurt says, looking away from him. "Slowly, but surely."

Blaine nods but doesn't say anything. Kurt glances at him for a moment and then stands up.

"Come on," he says, offering Blaine a hand.

Blaine looks up in surprise. "What?"

"You're obviously very upset," Kurt says. "And you have every right to be. _But_, I want to help you take your mind off things, and maybe give you a little hope in the process."

Blaine blinks, confused, but he takes Kurt's hand anyway, pulling himself up. "How are you going to do that?"

Kurt smiles, wrapping his fingers tightly around Blaine's. Blaine can tell by the warmth blossoming in his cheeks that he's blushing furiously. And, for a second, his heart actually stops. This is new. He felt something similar a long time ago, and now his emotions have suddenly kicked him in the gut.

"You'll see," Kurt teases, and Blaine giggles.

Blaine actually _giggles._

"No, don't give me that," he says as Kurt begins leading them down the hall, still holding his hand. "Come on, Kurt. Where are you taking me?"

Kurt doesn't answer but continues to smile.

"Kurt!"

"Alright, alright," he says, caving. "I'm taking you to see my dad."

And there it goes again – that exhilarating feeling. Blaine's mouth goes dry and he doesn't quite know what to say. Meeting the family – it's a big step in their relationship, especially considering they've been "hospital buddies" for a week.

Then again, he _is _holding Kurt's hand.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks. He's looking at Blaine now with concern in his expression. "Are – are you okay with that? I don't – I didn't want to upset you or anything."

"What? No, no – I – yes," he spits out at last. "Yes, I'm okay with it. I'd love to meet your dad."

Kurt smiles instantly and then gives Blaine's hand a squeeze. "And I'm guessing soon enough, I'll meet your brother."

Blaine smiles back, even through the twinge of guilt in his stomach.

.

.

Blaine expects Burt's hospital room to be quiet, but when he steps inside, he finds it's actually quite the opposite. He recognizes Finn, sitting in a chair between Burt's bed and a woman who must be his mother. They're all talking animatedly, laughing and smiling. Blaine feels a small twist in his heart and looks nervously over to Kurt, who smiles reassuringly at him.

As they enter the room, Kurt's family turns to look at them. Blaine takes a deep breath, forcing a smile on his face.

"Who's this?" the woman asks with a smirk, and Blaine feels the pressure of their gazes intensify.

"Carole," Kurt says. "Dad, Finn – this is Blaine."

"Haven't heard a thing about you," Burt mutters sarcastically, and Kurt goes red.

Blaine laughs a little awkwardly, disentangling his hand from Kurt's. "It's – uh – good to meet you guys," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Burt nods, beckoning him forward. "Don't be shy, kid. Come on over."

Slowly, Blaine walks forward, Kurt right at his side. His heart is racing in his chest, and he doesn't know why. Is it normal for him to be this nervous, to be this anxious? He stands with his hands in his pockets at the side of Burt's bed, trying to ease up.

"So, you're Blaine, huh?" Burt asks, looking up at him.

Blaine tries not to notice how tired he looks. With the nasal plugs up his nose and the IV wrapped around his hand, he looks so much worse than Blaine should feel. Blaine almost feels guilty for being sorry for himself all the goddamned time. Burt's obviously got it a lot worse, and Blaine doesn't even feel like he should be here. He's taking up a hospital room that a real kid in need could use. Right now, Blaine's not even sure what he's doing here.

"Yes, sir," he replies quietly.

Burt nods. "I was joking before. Kurt's told us a lot about you. He said your brother's here – got in a car accident? Is that right?"

Blaine nods, pressing his lips together. "He's – he's in coma," he says, swallowing hard.

"I'm sorry," Burt says, and Blaine waves a hand.

"It's – it's fine," he says. "I'm coping."

"Glad to hear it," Burt replies.

"And you're still visiting him?" Carole chimes in. "Every day? You're not just waiting for the call that he's woken up?"

Blaine shakes his head. "I'd like to be there when he does. Or close by. I live in Westerville, so it'd – it'd be a drive."

Carole nods, understanding. "You two must be close."

Blaine hesitates, forcing a smile. "We are," he says at last.

"Do you fight like these two?" Burt asks, and Carole laughs.

Blaine smirks, looking from Kurt to Finn as they glare at their father.

"We don't fight _that _much," Finn protests.

"We're very civil, Dad," Kurt adds.

"Oh, like you were a few hours ago, fighting over the last M&Ms in the vending machine?"

Finn and Kurt both turn red. Carole laughs again, smiling at them fondly. Burt looks smug, giving them each knowing smiles. Kurt huffs, crossing his arms, and Finn looks sheepishly down at the ground.

"Oh, lighten up," Burt says, looking at both of them, pleading for a grin.

As they joke around, Blaine begins to feel a bit distant. He feels like he's looking through glass, watching the scene from far away, not as part of it. His vision is almost cloudy, his ears feel like they're stuffed with cotton. His heart clenches in his chest, and a strong feeling comes over him – a mix of loneliness, self-pity, and a few other things he can't quite put his finger on.

He looks around the room, from Kurt to Burt to Carole to Finn, taking in their family dynamic. The way they counter and balance each other perfectly. The way they give each other joy and hope and strength. It almost makes Blaine jealous.

Why can't he have that?

Why can't he have someone who would fit him perfectly like that? Who would help him through everything like the way they're helping each other? Maybe that's what he needs. Maybe that's what he's been missing the past three years.

But then his mind flashes to today – Cooper, the Warblers, Kurt's family. All of them have been supportive in some way.

Maybe he's the one at fault here. Maybe he just hasn't noticed what he's got. Maybe he's been too blind, too sheltered by the cover of depression.

Before his mind can register what his body's doing, Blaine's turning around. The sound of his heartbeat pounds violently against his ears, and his stomach is uneasy. He feels dizzy, unsteady, but he begins making his way towards the door anyway.

"Blaine?"

He glances back, seeing Kurt's confused expression.

"Where are you going?"

Blaine opens his mouth to say something, but it's a moment before he manages to choke out, "I'm sorry. I have to go." And in the next second, he's gone – racing down the hallways until he can't carry himself anymore and he collapses onto the nearest bench, pressing his face into his hands as the sobs rack his body.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, it's been a long time, huh? I apologize for that, but I really wanted to do this story justice so I put it on hold until I could finish it and have the plot beta'd. We're still working on grammar/spelling, but I'm pleased with the plot, so I'm putting it out there now.

Also, I've posted a longer author's note on my livejournal (which is under the same name - icedintheveins), which explains a some of the personal nature of this fic, and if you wanted to check that out, that'd be awesome.


	6. Chapter 5

[ five. ]

* * *

><p>Footsteps find him within minutes. Arms slip carefully around his shoulders and he turns, leaning into them. He cries hard, gripping tight to the arms holding him. His head finds a chest to rest on, and he presses his face into the fabric over it, trying to silence and calm himself. He isn't sure how long he sits there, sobbing in Kurt's arms, but when he finally pulls up slightly, sniffling loudly, it feels like it's been a lifetime.<p>

Blaine doesn't say anything. Not yet. He simply gets his breathing under control as Kurt rubs soothing circles on his back. They sit like that for awhile, and as they do, Blaine realizes he can't keep up his charade any longer. He takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head.

"Kurt?" he starts hesitantly.

"Yes?" Kurt asks softly, resting his hand on Blaine's shoulder.

"I – I – " he breaks off, taking a breath. He closes his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "Kurt, I have to be honest with you," he says softly, opening his eyes again.

Kurt lifts his head up, eyebrows creasing together.

"That was my brother," Blaine continues. "That guy you saw me with earlier."

There's no reaction. Kurt's only perplexed. It takes him a second, but then he narrows his eyes, cocking his head a little. "Wait – "

"I've been lying this whole time," Blaine says. He hangs his head, not daring to look at Kurt. "Cooper's not the one in the hospital. I am."

The silence that follows rings in Blaine's ears. The only sound he can hear is his own heart thumping wildly in his chest. He glances back up.

Kurt blinks, eyes going wide once Blaine's words start to sink in.

Blaine feels like he might throw up. This is exactly why Blaine lied in the first place. He doesn't want Kurt's pity, sympathy, or worse – disgust. He just wants Kurt to continue to treat him like a normal person. He doesn't want their friendship to be affected like this. Kurt was his chance at normality, and Blaine really hopes he hasn't royally messed that up.

"Kurt?" he asks.

Kurt looks over to him, his mouth open as if he wants to say something, but it actually takes a minute for him to get the words out. "I don't understand," he says. "Why – why didn't you just tell me? What's wrong?"

Blaine sighs, pressing his lips together. "It's complicated," he replies honestly. "And I just – I wanted to feel like a regular person for once. You were so kind and sincere to me, Kurt," he continues. "I liked it. Everyone else is so careful with me. No one tries to make me feel normal. They all think I'll shatter at one simple touch."

"Well," Kurt says, gulping. "I don't really know what to say. Are – are you dying, or?" His voice shakes a little, and Blaine is taken by surprise.

"No," he says. "I'm not. It's – it's not a typical disease, Kurt," he explains. "It's not cancer, it's not a tumor. There's nothing wrong with my physically. It's all mental." He watches Kurt's expression, watches as some of the confusion falls away, to be replaced by something Blaine can't quite make out. It's not resentment, though – that much he can tell – and he's extremely grateful.

"You see that sign over there?" Blaine asks, pointing to the large, blue headboard that hangs right before a wide hallway. "You see where it says 'Mood Disorders Center'?"

Kurt nods.

"That's me," Blaine says. "I'm staying there for six weeks."

"Why?" Kurt asks, and Blaine's almost alarmed that he's still here, still willing to talk about this. He's not looking at Blaine like he's some kind of freak show. Blaine's a real person, and Kurt still gets that. Blaine appreciates it more than Kurt will ever imagine.

"Well," Blaine says heavily. "I – I tried to kill myself," he says quietly, nearly choking on the words. "More than once. My nurse, she – she thinks I have pretty severe depression."

Kurt nods, biting his lip. He doesn't say anything at first, and Blaine waits anxiously on the edge of seat, practically begging Kurt with his mind not to leave. _Don't change your opinion of me. Please. I'm still the same person you've been spending time with. Maybe a little better, actually._

"Well," Kurt starts, shifting his weight. "I'm not going to pretend like I understand what you're going through, because I don't. But I'm not here to judge you, Blaine. I've felt hopeless so many times in my life. I'm just lucky I have a strong support system. Something tells me that whatever happened, whatever you went through, you didn't have that."

Blaine feels dizzy, and his heart feels like it might explode out of his chest. This is all he's ever needed to hear from Kurt. All he's ever needed to hear from anyone really. He needed to catch a break like this, needed to be treated like someone with real, complex feelings that can't be fixed through one day of therapy and a small little pill.

"I didn't," Blaine confirms. "I had Cooper once every so often, but that was it. My dad doesn't like me, my mom didn't know how to deal with anything, and I pushed away all of my friends. I had nothing."

"Well, I'm sorry," Kurt says, and his expression is now sinking into one of complete sadness. "I'm so sorry, Blaine."

"I'll be okay, though," Blaine says, blinking hard against the incoming rush of fresh tears. "That's – that's why I'm on the verge of losing it right now, actually."

Kurt scoots a little closer. "I'm confused."

Blaine looks up at the ceiling to try and stem his watering eyes. He swallows hard. "For so long, I haven't wanted to get better. For so long, I didn't believe I would." He shakes his head, looking down at his lap. "But after today, I think I believe differently." He closes his eyes, breathing deep for a few seconds. "Seeing Cooper, seeing my friends, meeting your family, I've – I've realized I – I want all of that. I want to have a good relationship with my brother. I want to be happy around my friends. I want to patch things up with my family. I – I don't want to die. Not if I can end this pain some other way."

Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine again, hugging him tight. Blaine hugs Kurt in return, gripping him fiercely.

"I'm glad you told me this, Blaine," Kurt whispers after a second. "And just know, I'll be here for you. If you need to talk like this again, if you need to get something out. Or, if you just want to tell me that you're improving, that you're happy, I'll celebrate with you. We're here to help each other cope, remember? And that's what I intend to do, even if it's a little different than what I thought at first."

Blaine presses his lips together, blinking a few times to clear the tears. "Thank you, Kurt. Thank you so much."

"Of course," Kurt says with a firm nod.

Blaine swallows hard, nodding back awkwardly. He takes a deep breath, calming himself. "Well, I – " he starts, standing up. "I suppose I should be getting back. I'm way past my curfew."

"R – right," Kurt says, joining him. "I – I kind of just ran out after you, so I'm sure my family's a little freaked out." He pauses. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

Blaine nods, chewing on his lip.

"Okay, good," Kurt says. He reaches up slightly. "I – do you have a cell phone? I'd – I'd like to talk to you outside of our little meetings."

Blaine sighs, shaking his head. "I'm not allowed one."

Kurt clicks his lips together in disappointment.

"I'm sorry," Blaine says. "My freedom's pretty limited. And I'm getting my ass kicked tonight for sure – out of my boundaries, late for curfew – "

"Right, right," Kurt says, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I should let you go."

"It's fine," Blaine says with a small smirk. "I'll weasel my way out. My nurse is a pushover, and I know she'll back me up."

"Okay, good. I don't want you to get in too much trouble," Kurt says, sighing with relief. "I'll see you tomorrow, Blaine." He turns to leave.

"Kurt?"

"Yes?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder.

"Thank you," Blaine says quietly. "Honestly. I was so scared of telling you. I'm scared of telling everyone, actually. But you listened, and you didn't judge me, and that – that means a lot."

Kurt smiles. "Well, I didn't expect you needed more judgment in your life. I figured you just needed a friend."

.

.

Blaine forces a sheepish smile as he approaches the entrance of the Mood Disorders Center. Emma's waiting for him, pacing between the chairs of the common room. As soon as she sees him, she does a double take. The relief in her expression quickly turns to anger, and she puts her hands on her hips.

"Blaine Anderson, where on earth have you been?" she hisses.

"Please – please don't be mad at me," he says, putting his hands up in surrender. "I was talking to someone."

"Well, who could possibly be so important as to keep you from curfew?" Emma asks. "Your friends and family should know better."

"He didn't know I was staying here," Blaine explains. "I literally just told him I was. We've been keeping our meetings to my free time."

Emma's eyebrows crease together, and she stares at him quizzically. "I think you and I should have a chat. Come on."

He follows after her, biting his lip. They sit down at one of the empty tables, facing each other. Emma folds her hands together, looking at him carefully. "Care to tell me about this person you've met?"

Blaine sighs, leaning back in his chair. He looks down at the table, chewing on the inside of his cheek before he speaks. "His name is Kurt. He's a year older than me and he lives in Lima. His dad had a heart attack and that's why he spends a lot of time here."

"And so during these meetings," Emma says, "what do you guys do?"

"Talk, mostly," Blaine says quietly. "He buys me coffee too, sometimes."

"Do you like talking with him?"

Blaine nods. "It's nice. We help each other cope. I mean, I haven't really been honest with him, so I haven't told him much about what I'm feeling, but I help him, and it takes my mind off things. It helps me forget for awhile."

"Forget what?" Emma asks, resting her head in her hand.

"I don't know," Blaine says. "Just – that everything sucks." He laughs humorlessly. "I guess . . . when I'm with him, I feel almost normal. I don't feel worthless and hopeless. I feel like I'm actually worth something. I feel like I can get through this." Blaine swallows hard, ignoring the burning sensation he can feel in his eyes. "And I – I told him that today. I told him the truth. I told him that I tried to kill myself and that's why I'm staying here. But I also told him – Mrs. Pillsbury, I told him that I wanted to get better. And I do. I really do."

Emma smiles slowly, reaching out and gripping his hand.

"I saw Cooper today. I saw my friends. Kurt introduced me to his family. I felt almost _happy_, Mrs. Pillsbury. I don't – I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose these relationships I've formed. I – I have something to live for now."

Emma presses her lips together, eyebrows dipping as she watches Blaine come undone. His shoulders start shaking and he can't stop it now. He starts crying hard, and god, he's so tired, but at the same time, it feels _so good._ Emma pushes herself up and walks around the side of the table. She lowers herself into a squat and wraps her arms around Blaine. He falls into her, hugging her tightly.

"Blaine," she murmurs softly. "Blaine, I'm so glad to hear that. And you know, the beginning of recovery is always the hardest part. It's not going to be easy, Blaine. It' really won't. But I will be here. Your brother, your friends, and Kurt will be here. You'll get through this, Blaine. I know you will."

He sniffles, getting control of himself.

"But I – I don't even know where to start," he says quietly.

"And that's why I'm here," Emma says with a smile. "If you want, we can start private therapy sessions. And some time before you're checked out – probably two or three weeks before you leave, we'll start you on anti-depressants, but we'll have to double-check with a psychiatrist first. How does that sound?"

Blaine takes a deep breath and sniffles again. "That sounds good."

Emma nods, smiling wider. "Good."

She leans in and hugs Blaine again. He welcomes her embrace, resting his head on her shoulder.

Finally, after everything, there's some hope for the future.

.

.

Blaine doesn't sleep well that night.

He tosses and turns in his small, stiff bed, wrestling with his blankets. They're heavy and hot, and it feels like they're suffocating him.

And when he does sleep, it's full of uneasy and restless dreams.

_He walks through the halls of the hospital, but they seem taller somehow, and the lights are dimmed. His breath comes fast in his chest, and his heart rages against his ribs. He keeps walking carefully down the hall until he reaches a door to his right. There's a plaque on the wall next to it, reading PRIVATE THERAPY, and with a deep breath, Blaine pushes the door open._

_Like the halls, the room is dark. Only a small lamp on the therapist's desk is glowing, illuminating the room in an eerie light._

"_H – hello?" Blaine asks, squinting through the darkness._

"_Sit down, Blaine," the voice replies quietly._

_He reaches out blindly for a chair, and once he finds it, sits down fast._

"_Do you know why you're here?"_

_Blaine's eyebrows crease together nervously. "For therapy?"_

_A spine-tingling laugh comes from the silhouette sitting at the desk._

"_No."_

"_Wha – "_

"_You're here because you're nuts," the voice replies. _

_Blaine stiffens, surprised._

"_You're crazy, Blaine. Dangerous. Insane. Psychotic. You're an absolute disgrace, and I know you might think that you'll improve, but I'm here to assure you, Blaine, that you won't. You won't."_

_Blaine swallows hard, blinking fast._

"_You're going to be locked up here the rest of your life, trying desperately to get back out. But that nurse of yours will just pull you back, patting your head and telling you she'll take you outside later once you've choked down that animal feed you guys are forced to eat. Each day, you're just going to slowly descend deeper and deeper into that madness eating your mind."_

"_I'm not crazy," Blaine blurts out at last. "I'm not."_

"_Really?" the voice asks. "Because what person in their right mind would try to kill themselves? Just think about that, Blaine."_

_Blaine shakes his head, grinding his teeth together. "You don't know anything."_

"_Oh, but I do."_

_The silhouette reaches an arm out, grabbing the lamp. The light shines in the person's face, and Blaine finally gets a good glance at who it is._

_Immediately, he's stumbling up from his seat, backing up across the room._

"_Andrew," he breathes, eyes wide._

_Andrew chuckles, watching in pleasure as Blaine backs up into the closed door._

"_Gotchya now, Blaine."_

Blaine sits bolt upright, breathing heavily. He's covered in cold sweat, and his entire body is shaking. It takes him a few minutes to calm down enough to lie back down, and when he does, Andrew's cruel laughter is ringing in his head.

.

.

Thankfully, therapy doesn't quite go the way it did in his dream.

He goes early in the morning, right before breakfast. Emma's at his door at seven AM, waiting patiently for him to finish getting ready. He joins her nervously, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

"It won't be that bad," Emma promises. "I know Marianne. In fact, she was my therapist for quite awhile."

Blaine looks up at her, and she smiles at him, giving him a pat on the back.

"I'm sorry I can't stay, but I'll be waiting for you when you're done. I promise, you're going to do just fine."

The door is open when they reach it, and unlike the room in Blaine's dream, it's large and spacious with wide bay windows and plenty of comfortable furniture. And instead of Andrew, a woman who appears to be somewhere in her forties is sitting behind the desk. She's small and rather plump, with light brown hair, and warm, brown eyes behind her glasses.

"Hello, Marianne," Emma says brightly. "How are you today?"

"Quite well, actually," Marianne says, standing up. "My son finally went back home last night. It's been a week since I slept that well. I love that boy, but he really puts a strain on my nerves."

Emma lets out a laugh, and Blaine breathes out a sigh of relief. She seems nice enough.

"And you must be Blaine," she says, turning towards him. "I'm Marianne, your therapist. And I know you probably don't like the sound of that word, but it sounds a lot better than shrink, I like to believe. I feel like if people called me that, they'd just be making fun of me." She holds out her hand.

Blaine forces a small smile as he shakes her hand gently. "I can relate."

Marianne chuckles, letting go. "Well, Emma," she says. "I'll see you in forty-five minutes then. I think it's time Blaine and I get acquainted."

Emma gives Blaine a squeeze on the shoulder as she leaves the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

"Well," Marianne says, turning back to him. "Why don't you take a seat over on that couch. I've just got to grab my clipboard, and then we can get started."

He nods, walking over to the couch and carefully sitting down.

"Please don't mind the notes I take," Marianne says, sitting down in the chair across from him. "It's just for reference because I have a _horrible _memory."

Blaine nods again, relaxing a little into the cushions.

"Now, Blaine," Marianne says, looking up at him. "Why don't we just start with the basics – how old are you, where are you from, where do you go to school? Just anything general you want to tell me."

"Well," he sighs, beating a hand against his thigh. "I'm sixteen. I live in Westerville, and I go to school at Dalton Academy."

"What's it like at Dalton Academy?"

"Nice," Blaine replies simply. "Everyone there's really friendly – especially the guys in the Warblers."

"The Warblers?"

"The glee club. We're an a capella group," Blaine explains. "I was their sort of . . . leader, I guess. We lost at Sectionals, however, and so we didn't have much to do for the rest of the year besides our spring concert."

"And you like singing?" Marianne asks.

"I love singing," Blaine replies, letting a small, sincere smile grace his lips. "I love acting. I just love performing. The stage has always been my home."

Marianne nods, pressing her tongue against her cheek. "I'm guessing you haven't always gone to Dalton Academy," she says, raising her eyebrows.

Blaine shakes his head, swallowing hard. "I transferred in the middle of my freshman year."

"Why?"

"I – I got beaten," he says quietly. "There were these – these three guys, and they – " He breaks off, closing his eyes and bending forward. He takes a deep breath, trying to swallow back his panic.

"Blaine?" Marianne asks. "It's okay. You're right here with me. No one's going to hurt you. If – if you're comfortable, would you mind telling me what those three guys did, exactly? How did they hurt you? Why did they do it?"

Blaine takes another deep breath, calming himself. He straightens up, but continues looking at his lap. "I went to the school dance," he says slowly. "With – with one of my friends. He was a guy. I – I'm – I'm gay, and he was too, and we just – we wanted to have some fun. So we went. And it _was _fun. Until afterward." He closes his eyes, fighting dizziness. "We – we were waiting for his dad to pick us up, and they just – they came out of nowhere. Before I knew what was happening, they were punching me, kicking me. Jason was ripped away from me, and I could hear him fighting them off. He only lasted a few seconds though, and I heard him drop to the ground somewhere beside me."

He breaks off, and his voice begins to waver, sobs blocking his throat. "There was blood," he says quietly. He swallows hard, but it doesn't help. The sobs are starting to break through, and he can't stop them. "There was _so much _blood, and I knew it was mine. It was Jason's too, and it was everywhere. All around me, and I just – I didn't think anyone could have that much blood inside of them, let alone bleed that much and stay conscious. But it wasn't for long. I was in a coma for three days, and I – I stayed in the hospital for another two weeks after that. And that's when my parents decided to pull me out of that school and they transferred me to Dalton Academy. That's – that's where my brother, Cooper, had gone to school."

"Now, Blaine," Marianne starts. "I'm going to be very cliché here and ask you – how did that make you feel? What were thinking when you started at Dalton? Anything specific about those boys, about your family, about the sudden change?"

Blaine runs a shaky hand over his face, exhaling roughly. "I was in shock mostly, at first," he starts. "I really couldn't believe what had happened. Dalton, it – it was safer. And that's why I thought my parents sent me there at first, but – " He breaks off, putting his face in his hands.

"But what, Blaine?"

He lifts his head ever so slightly, just enough that he can get the words out, "But I was wrong. They – they just wanted to get rid of me. They didn't want to deal with me anymore. They didn't even _care_ about me. These kids had beaten the shit out of me and my dad _still _looked at me with disgust. He – he probably would've rather had those kids kill me, like - "

He stops mid-sentence and takes one last deep breath in a ditch attempt to calm himself. He fails miserably. He doubles over, wrapping his arms around his torso as he sobs hard. Within seconds, Marianne is sitting next to him, rubbing her hand up and down his arm.

"Let it out, Blaine," she says quietly. "Just let it out; you'll feel better."

He shies away from her touch, curling up into himself a little more. Memories are flashing through his mind, bursting through the wall he's put up over the past few years. After all of this time of feeling numb, of living through random bouts of pain that he's quick to cover up, he's stopped pushing everything back. He's let the numbness slip away and he's finally letting himself _feel._

And the first thing to come rushing back is the pain.

The hurt, the fear, the anger, the anxiety. More intense than ever before. All of this time he's only felt the dulled sensations of those emotions, but now he's letting them back in full force. He knows that happiness and joy and contentment are all somewhere there too, but they're buried a long way under, and now all he can hope for is to get it all back.

Therapy's supposed to help him find it. Anti-depressants are supposed to help him find it. And hell, Kurt's already helping him to find it.

It's going to be a long journey, but Blaine's ready to start. That's why he's here, that's why he's sitting in the middle of his therapist's office crying his eyes out. That's why he's allowing all of these memories to come back – so he can deal with them. So he can work through all the pain and anxiety that comes with them.

This is what he has to do if he's ever going to find peace.

.

.

Blaine's slumped forward onto their usual table when Kurt enters the café, his bag across his shoulder. He's smiling, walking with a skip in his step, but as soon as he sees Blaine, he falters.

"You look exhausted," he remarks, sitting down and pulling his bag off. "Are you okay?"

Blaine sighs heavily, lifting himself up and sitting straight. "I had my first private therapy session this morning," he says quietly.

"How did that go?" Kurt asks nervously.

Blaine shrugs, resting his cheek in his hand. "Draining, mostly. I know it's supposed to help me, but I don't feel much better. Everything just hurts worse."

Kurt reaches out, taking Blaine's hand in his. He rubs his thumb gently over the tops of Blaine's fingers. "I'm sorry," he says softly, and then pauses. "Will you let me try to cheer you up?"

The frown on Blaine's face lifts slightly. "Are you going to take me to see your dad again?" he asks teasingly.

Kurt hangs his head, laughing slightly. "No," he says, looking back at him. "I want to help you, not trigger you."

"Then give me your best shot," Blaine replies.

Kurt smiles, giving Blaine's hand a squeeze. "Well, come on," he says softly. "We can't do it in here." He stands up, putting his bag back on his shoulders and beckoning Blaine to follow him.

"Wait – do what?" Blaine asks as they exit the cafeteria.

"You told me you were in glee club," Kurt says, walking swiftly down the hall.

"And?"

"And you know I am too," Kurt says. He turns a sharp right and goes out into the courtyard. The very same one Blaine had been in with Cooper and the Warblers. "Well," he says, stopping. He turns around, putting a hand is pocket. "At McKinley, we have weekly glee assignments, and this week, it's inspirational and hopeful songs. I figured both of us could really use a little inspiration and hope."

Blaine nods, and this time, the small grin that graces his lips isn't forced. "And what song are you doing?"

"'Here Comes the Sun'," Kurt replies. "I'm singing it with my brother, but he refuses to practice right now. So . . . will you do the honor of singing it with me?"

Blaine chuckles nervously, looking down at his feet for a moment. "Kurt, it's been months since I last sang." He looks up, biting his lip.

"Well, don't you think you should be getting back to it then?" Kurt asks with a smirk. His eyes are bright, his expression filled with nothing but hope and eagerness, and he's practically bouncing up and down on his feet. Blaine doesn't have the heart to ruin that.

"Fine," Blaine says with an eyeroll. "I'll sing it with you."

"Good," Kurt replies. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a folder. Inside is sheet music, and he hands a copy to Blaine. "You'll start on harmony, but we'll switch quite a bit."

Blaine nods, looking it over. It seems easy enough, but the thought of act actually opening his mouth and belting out the lyrics, letting himself get lost in the music and possibly enjoying himself - it's incredibly nerve-wracking.

"So," he says swallowing hard. "You – you go ahead, then. I come in after you."

Kurt stares at him for a second, then laughs. "Loosen up, Blaine," he says. "Relax. Singing is going to _help_ you, I promise."

Blaine nods, breathing deep.

Kurt's smile fades to a smirk, looking down at his music. Softly, he begins to sing. _"Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo. Here comes the sun, and I say it's alright."_

Blaine joins on the harmony, stepping over so he's standing beside Kurt. _"Little darling, it's been a long, cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here. Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo. Here comes the sun, and I say it's alright."_

Kurt grins widely and gives Blaine's shoulder a nudge. Carefully, Blaine takes the lead. _"Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces. Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here."_

Kurt steps around Blaine, looking over his shoulder as he does so, smirking. _"Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo."_ He leans in, singing right into Blaine's face. _"Here comes the sun, and I say, it's alright."_

Blaine leans back, replying with, _"Sun, sun, sun, here it comes."_

Kurt shoots right back, _"Sun, sun, sun, here it comes."_

They skirt around each other, walking down the path and stepping around the fountain, singing. _"Sun, sun, sun, here it comes. Sun, sun, sun here it comes. Sun, sun, sun here it comes."_

Kurt stops on the beat, spinning swiftly around. Blaine steps right up to him, matching his quiet melodies. _"Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting. Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear. Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo. Here comes the sun, and I say it's alright." _

Kurt leans against the fountain, and moving slowly, Blaine joins him as they sing_, "Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo. Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo. It's alright. It's alriiiiight."_ They hold the last note, sliding into a decrescendo. They finish on an almost whispered note, staring right at each other. They're quiet for a moment, catching their breath.

"You're really good," Kurt breathes.

Blaine smiles, real and honest. "Thank you," he says shyly, and he can feel the blush in his cheeks. "You are too."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "I'm okay, I guess."

"You're amazing," Blaine insists.

Kurt presses his lips together, trying to hide his grin. Quickly changing the subject, he asks. "So, do you feel better?"

Blaine contemplates it for a moment, and after a second, with the easy smile still on his face, he replies. "Yeah – yeah, I do. Thank you."

And for one, he's not lying. He can't even remember the last time he sang and actually enjoyed it. He can't remember the last time smiling and laughing came so easily.

He can't remember the last time he felt this _happy._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for the continued support, and thank you to Lyssa and Stephanie for beta-ing.


	7. Chapter 6

[ six. ]

* * *

><p>Over the next several days, Blaine attends eight private therapy sessions. They're long and tiresome, leaving him more battered and broken than he was before.<p>

But he's healing.

He's opening up and allowing himself to dig down deep for a solution to his problems. He's not bottling everything up and refusing to seek out help. He's working with his therapist, with his nurses, with the doctors, giving them all he can so they can figure out what's wrong with him.

He's done feeling numb.

He's done feeling hopeless.

He's done feeling like it's over.

But then there's a downside to that – _pain._

It's not easy talking about his past, about how he felt then and how he feels now. It's not easy talking about why he did the things he did – why he fought with his friends and family, why he quit the Warblers after Sectionals, why he stopped hanging out with his friends. And the tougher things – why he started self-harming, why he finally decided to kill himself.

Without that numbness there, without dumb excuses and the thought of things being over soon enough, the pain is so much more intense. It's raw and real, and it hurts much more than anything he's ever felt.

Thankfully, Marianne is aware of all this. She understands, and she allows Blaine to go at his own pace.

At first, they talk about easier things. They talk about Blaine coming to terms with his sexuality and coming out. They talk about the relationships he has with his brother and parents. They talk about the transition to Dalton and joining the Warblers. They talk about him making new friends and becoming somewhat of a leader in the glee club.

Once he can successfully get past all of that, they move to the tough stuff. They talk about bullies and Sadie Hawkins and being in the hospital for weeks. They talk about him fighting with his father his second night home. They talk about him sinking into a depression during his first year at Dalton and attempting suicide. They talk about his first hospital stay and the anti-depressants that didn't work and how he eventually stopped taking them. They talk about the self-harm and the self-loathing and how he eventually came to the second suicide attempt.

It's difficult, and Blaine doesn't even begin to feel better. He usually feels worse, but as Marianne reminds him, it's progress.

Now, he can talk about these things, which also means, now he can face them and finally begin to get better.

.

.

This time, Blaine's looking forward to visiting day. He waits anxiously in the lobby, eyes moving over to the doorway every few minutes, waiting until Cooper finally walks through. Blaine smiles as he stands up and walks over to meet him. Cooper embraces him in a tight hug, smiling back. He lets go, but keeps his hands on Blaine's arms.

"How are you doing, kiddo?" he asks.

"Better," Blaine replies. "Slowly but surely."

Cooper nods, arm around Blaine's shoulder as they walk forward. "That's great to hear."

"I've started therapy sessions," Blaine says, almost absentmindedly.

Cooper's eyebrows shoot up. "Really?"

Blaine nods. "They're really exhausting."

"But are they helping?" Cooper asks.

"Yeah, I guess," Blaine answers honestly. "It's all kind of complicated."

Cooper rubs Blaine's forearm. "It'll be worth it, Blaine. It'll all be worth it." There's a beat of silence, before Cooper says, "You in the mood for pizza?"

Blaine looks at him quizzically. "Cooper, you know I can't leave."

"Doesn't mean I can't bring the pizza to you," he replies. "I'll just go pick it up and we can sit down somewhere and talk – does that sound good?"

Blaine shrugs. "Sure, I guess."

"Great. Besides, I've got something to give you."

Blaine watches with a sigh stuck in his throat as Cooper pulls out his phone and orders pizza. Thirty-five minutes later, they're sitting down in the cafeteria, enjoying it. After a solid five minutes of silence, Blaine finally asks, "Okay, Cooper, what do you have for me?"

Cooper swallows before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out Blaine's cell phone.

"Cooper, I –

"I know you're not allowed to have one," Cooper says. "But I've seen other patients with them, and I figured it wouldn't be a problem sneaking one in."

Blaine takes it hesitantly, turning it over in his hands.

"I've got your charger too," Cooper says.

"Thanks, Cooper," Blaine says, looking back up at him. "But why are you giving this to me?"

Cooper hesitates. "I want us to keep in touch."

Blaine narrows his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I – I have some news to tell you, Blaine," Cooper says, his lips twitching, trying not to smile.

"What is it?"

"Well, I've been taking _real _acting lessons. I mean, after Michael Bay shot me down twice, I figured it was time to get serious and brush up on my skills. No more cockiness."

Blaine rolls his eyes.

"So I've been taking those for about four months now, and, you know, it's actually helped a ton. My teacher pulled some real natural talent out of me, and a couple of weeks ago, he set me up for my first audition after beginning lessons with him."

"And how'd that go?" Blaine asks, but the answer is not what he expects.

"Really great, actually," Cooper says. "I got a supporting role. We start shooting in Scotland next week."

Blaine feels his blood go cold, and suddenly, he's not hungry anymore.

"R – really?" he asks.

Cooper nods, not even realizing that Blaine's heart is breaking inside him.

"That's – that's awesome. I'm really happy for you, Cooper," he says, but his voice is absolutely dry.

Cooper smiles, still oblivious. "I knew you would be. Thanks for the support, squirt."

Blaine pushes his pizza away, going quiet.

He's not angry at Cooper; he's happy for him, honestly. It's just – this is the way it's always been. There's always been something bigger and better for Cooper, and Blaine's always been pushed on the backburner. Cooper means well. He absolutely loves Blaine, and Blaine knows that, but still, he can't help but feel incredibly unimportant.

Especially given what he's currently going through. He just tried to kill himself, for God's sake. Now he's got therapy, trying out anti-depressants, and the idea of going through that without Cooper – it's almost daunting. But obviously Cooper doesn't care about that, and Blaine isn't surprised.

Blaine keeps quiet and avoids Cooper's eyes as he finishes his lunch.

.

.

The courtyard is quiet today, which suits Blaine just fine. He doesn't want to have to deal with other people right now. Dealing with the weight of his brother's gaze is enough.

"You haven't said more than a few words since lunch," Cooper comments. "You okay, bud?"

Blaine shrugs. "I'm tired," he says, deflecting to his old excuse. "I told you – the therapy sessions are really draining me lately."

Cooper nods, and Blaine can't tell if he's buying it or not. "Well, is there – is there anything you want to do. I mean, I'm not going to see you for almost two months, Blaine."

Funnily enough, Blaine knows that. It's what's been eating at him for the past three hours, and Cooper's not helping one bit.

"I know," he says, hoping it didn't come out too snappy. "I just – I'm exhausted, Coop. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Cooper says, clapping him lightly on the back. "It's fine, Blaine. We don't have to do anything. I'm just glad I got to see you one more time before I leave."

Blaine almost snorts. He knows he shouldn't be slipping into this mindset again; he just got out of it, but he can't help it. Cooper just dropped a bomb on him, and it's completely destroyed everything he's been working for. He's allowed to be bitter, even if it's not going to help him in the long run. Blaine gives himself a small shake, trying to rid his brain of all these thoughts if just for a moment.

Cooper hangs his arm around Blaine's shoulder. "I'm going to miss you, bud, but, man, this is such a huge opportunity. I really hope I can make you proud."

Blaine hesitates, unsure what to say. Having Cooper act so brotherly lately is completely throwing him off. They were never that close, and now to have him leaving during such a crucial time in Blaine's life, it feels so off. He knows that Cooper isn't just saying it, but it almost feels like Blaine's being ripped off. He just wants Cooper to support him completely. He doesn't want Cooper to continue leaving, only being Blaine's brother when wants to be.

Finally, Blaine says, "You will," voice tight.

Cooper smiles, rubbing his shoulder. "I really hope so, because, Blaine – I'm so proud of you. I – I know things have been really difficult for you, but you're finally stepping up and doing something about it, and I'm really happy for you."

Blaine nods, swallowing hard. He wants to tell Cooper that he's so far from better, that he's still got a long way to go and Cooper leaving isn't going to help anything, but he keeps his mouth shut. He guesses that this is the way it'll always be. He'll just have to keep sacrificing things for the sake of their relationship.

"You know," Cooper says, "once you get out of here, maybe I could bring you on set. That'd cheer you up, right?"

Blaine forces a smile. "Yeah," he says quietly.

"Scotland's beautiful. You'd really like it there, I'm sure," Cooper continues. "You've always had eyes for nature."

Blaine nods, biting his lip. As Cooper continues to blabber on about Scotland and all of the things they could do there, Blaine's heart continues to sink. He knows he won't be able to go, not in his condition. He still barely wants to get up in the morning, and anti-depressants aren't going to fix everything in a day.

And on top of that – the excitement in Cooper's voice just hurts. Because Cooper's got a bright future ahead of him. One that may or may not involve Blaine. He knows that if he won't go, Cooper will still have a blast. He'll pave his way through Hollywood and continue his life and continue to forget Blaine. It's always been that way, and it always will be.

.

.

Cooper leaves with a long hug, practically crushing Blaine in his arms. He pulls away at last and puts his hands firmly on Blaine's shoulders.

"Now, you remember to keep in touch, alright?"

"Of course," Blaine replies.

And he's pulled into another suffocating hug. "God, I'm going to miss you, Blaine."

"I'm going to miss you, too," Blaine says quietly, finally admitting it.

"You take care of yourself, okay?" Cooper says, pulling away again. "I don't want another call like the last one." His voice shakes a little, an almost invisible tremor going through him.

"I will," Blaine says. "You just go have fun in Scotland." He sounds bitter, and he knows it. Thankfully, Cooper doesn't notice, or, if he does, he doesn't show any sign of it.

He glances at the clock, seeing he's fifteen minutes past visiting hours. "Well, I should be going. I'll – I'll see you in seven weeks, squirt."

"Bye," Blaine says, tucking his hands in his pocket as Cooper heads through the glass doors. He stands there for God knows how long, trying to urge his body to move, but he feels lifeless. Eventually he has the sense to move once thoughts of Kurt enter his brain. They have a time planned to meet, which Blaine really can't miss much of, considering he has to be back in time for a lecture.

He drags himself through the hallways, which seem to be a lot quieter today – which again, suits him just fine. He needs a little quiet to soothe out all the stress he's been under lately, especially today.

Kurt's waiting for him as usual, sitting in the middle of the café with two cups of coffee. Blaine pushes the glass door open, slipping inside. Kurt looks up and smiles when he sees Blaine.

"How's your day so far?" he asks, sounding oddly tired.

Blaine sighs heavily. "Pretty crappy," he mutters, as he sits down, not even touching his coffee.

"What happened?" Kurt asks, genuinely concerned.

Blaine shakes his head, overwhelmed. "My brother," he says. "I mean, I'm happy for him, but still – it sucks. He, uh – he got a role in some new movie. A pretty big one, I guess. He's leaving to shoot in Scotland, and he's going to be gone for seven weeks."

Kurt looks at him sympathetically.

"It's just – he's the only one that's been visiting me. My parents obviously don't give a shit, and my friends are all freaked out. He's the only one that's been extremely supportive and encouraging me on. Besides you, of course," Blaine adds quickly.

"Blaine, I'm sorry," Kurt says quietly.

Blaine shakes his head again. "Don't be, I – I'm just being stupid."

"No, you're not," Kurt says, eyebrows creasing together. "Blaine, this isn't something I imagine you'd like to go through alone."

"Well, it's not just that," Blaine says, looking down and twisting his hands together on the table. "It's – Cooper's always had something else to do. Always something more important than me. In middle school, it was soccer. In high school, it was girls and theater. In college, it was – well, you can imagine. And even now – he's going to be this big movie star, finally, and I'm – I'm not going to matter anymore."

Kurt reaches out, placing his hand on Blaine's.

"Don't say that, Blaine," he says firmly. "You said your brother's the only one that's been visiting you? Does he even live in Ohio, Blaine?"

"No," Blaine says quietly. "He lives in Los Angeles."

"Even better," Kurt replies with a small smile. "Obviously, you mean a lot to him."

"It's only because of the suicide attempt," Blaine says, voice bitter.

Kurt shakes his head. "It's not, Blaine. Where are your parents, then?" Blaine looks down again, swallowing hard. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad," Kurt says quickly, realizing his mistake. "I'm just trying to show you how much your brother cares about you. Just because he's been given this opportunity, it doesn't mean he loves you any less."

Blaine sighs, pressing his lips together. "I just – I still wish he wasn't leaving. Not right now. I – I need him."

"I know," Kurt says, "But you do have me, you know."

Blaine forces a smile, looking back at him. "Thank you, Kurt." As the stress starts to wash away, Blaine looks at Kurt, really _looks_ at him, and it's then that he notices the paleness, the bloodshot eyes. "Kurt, what's wrong?"

Kurt doesn't hesitate. He heaves a deep breath and says, "My dad's heartbeat has been dangerously irregular today. They got it under control about an hour ago, but it's not a good sign."

Blaine feels his stomach sink, nausea engulfing him. "Kurt, I'm so sorry. I – I don't know what to say, I just – I hope things improve."

"Thank you," Kurt says, voice lifeless. "I just – I don't know how much longer I can do this. We barely made it through my mother's death, and if my dad dies, I – I don't – "

Blaine swallows, and he gives Kurt's hand a squeeze. "Hey – you've been helping me not to give up on myself. Don't give up on your dad."

Kurt nods, and Blaine can see that his eyes are filling with tears. "I know. But it's just been one thing after another, Blaine. I'm not sure his body can handle this. His heart is too fragile. It just – it might be time, and I'm not sure I'm ready."

"Look," Blaine starts. "Don't even think about all that yet, okay? There'll be plenty of time to grieve if worst comes to worst, but don't sell your dad short. You have to keep hanging on for him, Kurt. He needs you."

Kurt nods again, biting his lip. He reaches up a shaking hand to wipe away the tears streaming down his cheeks. "You're right, Blaine. I just – I can't help but think that maybe – "

"And that's perfectly normal," Blaine assures, "But there's no need to get yourself so worked up when your dad isn't even counting himself out." Kurt bites his lip, trying to breathe, and Blaine gives his hand another squeeze. "Hey, look at me," he says, and Kurt does. "You're alright, and your dad's going to be."

Kurt swallows hard and wipes his eyes again. "Thank you, Blaine. Really."

"It's no problem," Blaine says.

He watches as Kurt tries to regulate his breathing, struggling to stay calm. Wordlessly, he stands up and moves around the table. He wraps his arms cautiously around Kurt's neck, pulling him into a hug. Kurt doesn't hesitate; he hugs Blaine right back, burying his face in Blaine's shoulder. His body shakes a few times, and Blaine guesses those might be sobs, but when Kurt pulls away, he's much calmer.

"Our coffee's probably cold," he says, and Blaine can't help but laugh.

"Would you like to walk through the courtyard?" Blaine asks, holding out his hand.

"Yes," Kurt says, and he grabs Blaine's hand, allowing Blaine to help him up.

They walk out together, but it isn't until they get outside that Kurt grabs his hand again, holding tightly, but not daring to entwine their fingers. Blaine smiles over at him, thinking that it feels nice. Later, when he sits down and feels his phone in his pocket, Blaine exchanges numbers with Kurt, which also helps to ease some of the pressure off his chest. Yeah, Cooper might be gone, but Blaine's still so grateful that he has Kurt.

.

.

As soon as Blaine leaves Kurt's company, the loss of Cooper begins to hang over him like a raincloud again. His chest feels tight, and his body feels tired. He has to drag himself back to the Mood Disorders Center, the thought of a lecture only making him feel worse.

As he nears the glaring blue sign, he hears the shout of a familiar voice. He turns his head, watching as Puck is dragged past by two nurses.

"Stay away from me!" he screams. "Just get the hell out of here and leave me alone! Somebody make him go!"

"Sarah," one of the nurses dragging him hisses to the receptionist. "Escort that man out, and make sure he never returns. His name is Rufus Puckerman if you want to put him on the list."

The receptionist rushes forward, two security guards following after her. The man who Blaine assumes is Puck's father is pushed from the building. The security guards follow him down the street, and one stays by the doors after they return.

Puck doesn't show up for the lecture, and later, Blaine finds out from Emma that he's been put in a "special room" for the night. Blaine knows it's a padded room. Whenever patients have breakdowns and can't calm down, they're put in one just to make sure they don't hurt themselves or society. Blaine sincerely hopes he'll never have to spend a night or two in there.

"Blaine?" Emma asks. "Blaine, are you alright?"

He gives himself a shake, looking back at her. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Emma cocks her head, raising her eyebrows.

Blaine sighs. "No, I'm not. I'm – I'm upset, but I don't want to talk about it." Talking about it with Kurt was easy, because that's just the way they are, but Blaine's still uncomfortable talking about things with people in the Mood Disorders Center.

"Not with me?" Emma asks, and sometimes it scares Blaine how well she knows him. "Well, you know if you're comfortable, you do have a therapy session with Marianne tomorrow."

Blaine contemplates the option and pretty quickly decides it's worth a shot. If anyone can make him feel better about this besides Kurt, it's Marianne. That's what therapists are for, right?

"Yeah, okay, "Blaine says. "I think I will."

"Good," Emma replies. "And, Blaine, do you think you'll be okay without Noah tonight?"

Blaine laughs slightly. "Yeah. I think I'll do fine without his snoring."

Emma laughs as well, her eyes sparkling with something that resembles pride. "I know you might not be fully happy right now, Blaine, especially with whatever happened today, but you're doing so much better."

Blaine looks down at the table, nodding awkwardly.

"And I'm proud of you, Blaine. Depression is a difficult disease to deal with, but you've been working really hard to overcome it, and I think it's starting to pay off."

Blaine swallows hard. He would agree to some extent, but if he's being completely honest, he's still having an extremely hard time seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Suicidal thoughts still haunt him at least ten times a day, and he's almost sure as soon as he leaves this place, he'll go right back to where he was.

But there's still a small part of him, somewhere deep inside that believes that maybe, just maybe everyone's right. Maybe he can beat this.

"I'm really tired, Mrs. Pillsbury," Blaine says after a minute or so of silence. "I think I'm going to go to bed."

"Sleep well," Emma replies as Blaine stands up.

In all honesty, it is weird to sleep without Puck. There was some kind of comfort in sharing a room, just knowing that someone else was there if Blaine had a nightmare or even a panic attack like the ones he used to get at Dalton – and most of all, someone who understood. Someone who knew just what to do in order to calm Blaine down. It was nice to share that companionship. Blaine knows that Puck will be back, but he's also leaving this place a week before Blaine does. Blaine hopes that he'll be well enough by the then to take on Puck's old role to whoever joins him as his new roommate.

The moon is bright outside the window to Blaine and Puck's room, and Blaine stares at it for a moment, wishing he could see the stars he knows are surrounding it. It's impossible in a big city like this, and Blaine feels a pang of homesickness.

He just wants to be back in Westerville. He wants to see his friends and be back in school. He wishes he could just rewind the clock to even his early days of depression, when he could still hang out with his friends and feel normal, when it only plagued him in small bouts through the weeks. Things were so much easier then, and as Blaine drifts off to sleep, he hopes he can reach that point sometime soon, maybe even heal past that. Maybe he could really be happy again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Once again, thank you for the support and the wonderful reviews! Also, a huge thanks to my wonderful beta, Lyssa!


	8. Chapter 7

[ seven. ]

* * *

><p>Blaine pushes open the door to Marianne's office carefully. As he steps inside, she looks up from her computer, glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She smiles, scooting around her desk.<p>

"How are you today, Blaine?" she asks.

Blaine shrugs, lowering himself to his usual spot on the couch.

"Something's bothering you," Marianne says, immediately sensing it, and Blaine knows there's no way he can lie to her.

"Yeah," he affirms, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Are you comfortable telling me what it is?" she asks.

Blaine nods. "My brother came to visit me yesterday," he sighs.

"You've told me about your brother, but I feel there's more I should know," Marianne replies. "Would you care to tell me?"

Blaine hesitates, scrunching up his face a little. "I love him," he says. "I really do, but he – he, uh – he gets easily distracted from our relationship."

"What do you mean?"

"Cooper's a really ambitious person," Blaine says, "and when he gets involved in something, he gives it his all. He works hard. But at the same time, whatever that is, it consumes him. When he was thirteen, he was the star of the soccer team, and he constantly blew off babysitting me to practice. He would lock me inside and then go out in the backyard. When he was sixteen, it was girls. He missed out on hanging out with me to take them out and then go home with them. Sometimes, he would take them back to our house, and that never ended well for me. Now? Now, Cooper's set on becoming the next Hollywood heartthrob." Blaine lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"You don't seem happy about that," Marianne comments.

"Well, I mean – no, not the abandoning me part," Blaine says, irritated. He lowers his voice as he continues, "Yesterday, Cooper told me that he landed a big part in a movie, but shooting starts next week. Yesterday was the last day I'll see him for nearly two months, and I'm just – I'm angry and I'm upset that he left me in the state that I'm in. I just tried to commit suicide for the second time, and he's been the only constant support system I've had – and a shitty one at that, but God knows I'll take whatever I can get. I just – I'm sick of always coming in second to the newest excitement in Cooper's life, and I'm upset that it's happening especially now."

There's a long moment of silence after Blaine finishes. He hangs his head and reaches his hand up, fisting his hair.

"Blaine, I'm sorry you feel this way," Marianne starts cautiously. "But I want you to know that I doubt there's anything personal in the way your brother behaves. From the other times you've talked about him, he seems like he sincerely cares about you. Would you agree with that?"

Blaine lifts his head, nodding slowly.

"Sometimes, Blaine, people can lose sight of what's important. People can be flaky and irresponsible. They can forget what really matters. Now, I know you're in a very vulnerable place right now. I know you're hurting and you need support, but your brother isn't leaving because he doesn't care. In fact, he probably thinks you can handle this separation just fine."

Blaine muses over that for second, thinking about how Marianne is absolutely right. Cooper just doesn't know enough, doesn't realize how hard things are for Blaine. Cooper doesn't realize the importance of his presence, how Blaine's been relying on his support along with Kurt's to get himself along. And in all honesty, Blaine can't blame Cooper. This movie is a huge opportunity, and if it wasn't for his present situation, there would be nothing holding Blaine back from telling Cooper to go for it.

"Blaine?" Marianne asks gently. "What are you thinking?"

Blaine heaves a sigh. "I think you're right, but still . . . it doesn't stop the disappointment. I've come second to every other thing in Cooper's life for years, and even though I get it now, it still kind of hurts."

Marianne nods. "And that's only normal, Blaine. It's hard to never have that first position, especially when it's someone you care about. I think that happens to a lot of us – you depend on someone a lot more than they depend on you, and really there's nothing you can do to change it. It sucks, but we'll take what we can get. We'll take that weakened love, because even though it's not exactly what we want, we'll do anything to satisfy that desire. You'll come first to someone someday, Blaine. Whether it's your brother, a friend, a significant other – you will."

Blaine manages a small smile as he stares down at his shoes. He knows who he'd like to come first to, but that's never going to happen, and, just as Marianne pointed out, he'll accept that. He'll accept the flimsy friendship because that's all he's going to get.

"Do you really think that's possible?" he asks, suddenly.

"What?" Marianne asks.

"That I'll come first to someone," Blaine says. "What if I'm just second or third or fifty-seventh to everyone for the rest of my life? What if I'm never that important to anyone?"

Marianne shakes her head, a grin on her lips. "You think that now. A lot of people do, Blaine. You think that it's impossible for anyone to care that much. That it's impossible for anyone to have their world revolve around you, but it's not. You'll find someone, Blaine. Don't worry."

Blaine swallows, wishing he could know how. How does she know that? How is it even possible? How long will he have to wait? He bites his lip, swallowing back his questions. He can't know for sure. He'll have to wait until it happens – _if _it happens.

"Blaine?"

"I'm fine," he says quickly. "I feel a lot better now, I'm just – I'm thinking."

"About?"

"Everything you've said. I think I might be thinking too hard." He lets out an awkward laugh as he stands up. "Thank you again, Marianne."

She smiles. "Anytime, Blaine. That's what I'm here for."

He leaves the room, heart feeling heavy. He'd like to believe Marianne's right – that somewhere out there, there's someone who's just waiting to meet Blaine, waiting to make him the most important thing in their life, but he just can't see it.

.

.

Group is difficult today. Blaine can't focus; his mind is preoccupied by other things – by Cooper's absence, but mostly by the thought of Kurt and the dangerous feelings Blaine has surrounding him. Blaine's starting to accept what's happened with Cooper, but after talking with Marianne, Kurt's a whole different story.

Three years ago, Blaine promised himself he would never fall in love – not after Jason. He wasn't going to let himself get hurt like that again. But there's just something about Kurt that's completely breaking all of Blaine's rules. Blaine shuts himself off from the rest of the world, and Kurt works his way right in. Blaine convinces himself he'll never be happy, Kurt makes him feel better than he has in a long time. Blaine promises himself he won't ever fall in love, and what happens? He falls in love with Kurt.

Well, to be fairly honest, Blaine isn't sure he's _in love_ with Kurt. He just knows that he cares about Kurt a lot and that he'd really like to see him after he gets out of the hospital. He'd like to sing more duets and go on dates and maybe kiss if Blaine ever worked up the courage. After that, Blaine'll see about _in love_. (Though he knows with what he feels now, it's probably impossible for him _not _to fall in love with Kurt).

And it's these thoughts, these hopes that are extremely dangerous for Blaine. There are so many things that could go wrong if Blaine were to get involved in a romantic relationship besides homophobes beating the shit out of them. Blaine can see himself getting too clingy; he can see himself getting paranoid; he can see himself getting moody. He doubts his fragile ego could handle a breakup, but that's almost inevitable with Blaine's condition. Most people have difficulty associating themselves with people who have mental illnesses, and, though Kurt's been supportive so far, he's only seen Blaine at his best. There's no guarantee he'll stick around after he sees Blaine at his worst. Right now, Blaine's almost wishing he still had his cover, that he hadn't told Kurt the truth. Then maybe there'd be a fraction of a chance.

But then Blaine lifts his head, looking around the room at the array of people – drug addiction depression, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, PTSD – and he quickly realizes that even if Kurt didn't know, there's no way out of it in the future. Even if Blaine makes it out of here with working anti-depressants and gets back on track, there's no hiding his past, present, and future. Depression is a part of him now, and Kurt would have to find out at some point.

Blaine takes a deep breath, forcing all thoughts of Kurt from his mind. He's supposed to be focusing on the task Dr. Lancaster has given them; he doesn't need another scolding today. He'll have plenty of time to break his own heart later.

.

.

As soon as Blaine is let out of group for lunch, he heads back to his room to check his phone. He's hoping for a text of encouragement from Cooper. (He'd received one yesterday about a half hour after Cooper left the hospital, but he was so distraught at the time it didn't really sink in).

There's nothing from Cooper. However there is a text from Kurt, received fifteen minutes ago.

**Kurt (11:53)**  
><em>Meet me in the usual spot ASAP.<em>

Blaine hurries to reply, adrenaline humming in his veins.

**Blaine (12:09)**  
><em>I'm going down there right now.<em>

**Kurt (12:09)**  
><em>okay<em>

Blaine picks up speed, nerves heightening as he looks at Kurt's reply. His throat tightens a little, and he swallows hard.

Down in the cafeteria, Kurt sits hunched over at one of the tables closest to the door. His head is buried in his arms, which are resting on the table. As soon as Blaine walks in, he lifts his head up, revealing hair that's sticking up in every direction, bloodshot and puffy eyes, and a pale, strained face.

Blaine sits down across from him quickly, asking, "What's wrong, Kurt?"

Kurt sniffles before replying quietly, "My dad went into cardiac arrest this morning."

Blaine feels the blood drain his face. "Oh my god, Kurt, is he – "

"He's resting now," Kurt says, wiping at his eyes. "I've been sitting down here for about an hour, trying to calm myself. Finn lost his mind and Carole had to take him home. It was only once I'd stopped crying hard enough that I thought to text you."

"Oh, Kurt, I'm so sorry," Blaine says. "I – I was in group. I didn't have my phone with me because we're not allowed to have one, and I only just got to it. Kurt, I – "

Kurt shakes his head. "It's fine, Blaine. Honestly. I understand."

Blaine bites his lip. "You've been down here alone. Why – why didn't you go with you brother and Carole?"

Kurt sighs. "I didn't want to leave my dad. But then he fell asleep, and the nurses wanted me out of the room while they did some things. I came here and just sort of lost it."

"I'm so sorry," Blaine says again. "God, I wish I wasn't stuck in so many different boundaries."

"Like I said – it's fine, Blaine. I know you've got problems of your own. I don't blame you." Kurt sniffles again, reaching up and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"It's not even that," Blaine says. "Kurt, I couldn't care less. You're hurting, and I want to help you. It's just – I've got this schedule and a curfew and places I can and can't go. I just – I want to be with you when you need me." He heaves a sigh, reaching out and grabbing Kurt's hand tentatively.

Kurt holds on tightly. He offers a sad smile, saying nothing.

Blaine thinks for a moment, calculating through his schedule, working out how early he'll have to get up in order to sneak into breakfast on time.

"You know what," he says. "I have an hour of free time after lunch, so that leaves us with an hour and a half right now. After that I have group, and then dinner. After dinner, I have another hour of free time, and then a lecture. While I'm at group, you can go check on your dad. After dinner, I'm going to see if my nurse will let me skip out on a lecture and spend the night with you."

Kurt looks up, eyes widening in surprise. "Blaine, are you sure?"

Blaine nods, grinning. "I'm sure my nurse will let me. I have her wrapped around my finger. Plus, she kind of knows how good you are for me," he adds shyly, and, if he's not just imagining things, he's pretty sure a small blush rises in Kurt's cheeks.

"Thank you, Blaine," Kurt says softly. "It really means a lot that you're willing to do this, especially given your circumstances."

Blaine scoffs. "_My _circumstances? Please, Kurt."

"Well, I just mean – you're not exactly free from struggle, are you, Blaine?" Kurt says, running his thumb over Blaine's knuckles.

Blaine feels electricity shoot up his arm, and he knows he's the one blushing this time. "No, but I mean – I am in control of my improvement. I don't really think it's the same thing for you and your dad."

Kurt nods, pressing his lips together. "Still, I think it's really great for you to sacrifice, at the very least, your time to help me."

"Ah, it's not a problem," Blaine assures. "Not if I get you to smile out of it."

Kurt grins then, laughing slightly. There's a tug in Blaine's gut, and his own smile falters. He's really not doing anything to stop these feelings, and, while it makes him nervous, there's also a bit of a thrill that comes with them.

Maybe he can forget about the promise he made to himself.

Maybe.

.

.

Emma's chatting with one of her other patients when Blaine arrives back in the Mood Disorders Center – a war veteran with PTSD. She finishes whatever she was saying, and the guy smiles. Emma claps her hand on the table, and then stands up, wishing him goodbye. Blaine rushes after her, reaching out and catching her by the elbow.

"Blaine – ! Hi, what's going on?" she asks, turning around to face him.

"I – I need you to do me a favor," Blaine says carefully.

Emma narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "It depends. What exactly do you need me to do?"

"I need you to cover for me," Blaine says. "I need you to get me out of lecture and let me spend the night with Kurt."

Emma purses her lips. "Why?"

Blaine lets out a semi-irritated huff. "His dad went into cardiac arrest this morning, and it's not looking good for him. I don't – I don't know if he's on his deathbed or what, but Kurt's really distraught, and since his brother had a panic attack and his mom had to take him home, Kurt's been left alone all day, and he will be tonight – unless I'm with him."

Emma deflates, understanding dawning her face. She chews on her lip. "I think . . . if I have a word with Marianne, and maybe Doctor Lancaster, I could rally up enough support for you to get away with that."

Blaine perks up, eyes widening. "You're serious?"

Emma nods, smiling slightly. "All three of us know how important this bond is for you. Look at how you just grinned when I said you could go. You've improved so much because of Kurt, I think we can let you off the hook for one night."

Blaine doesn't think; it doesn't even register in his mind, but, suddenly, his arms are around Emma and he's hugging her tight. "Thanks, Emma."

She stiffens, looking down at him curiously as he pulls away.

"What?" Blaine asks self-consciously.

"You called me Emma," she replies.

"I – I'm on a first-name basis with Marianne," Blaine says defensively. "Is that – do you not want - ?"

"No, no – it's fine," Emma assures. "I call you Blaine. You can go ahead and call me Emma." She reaches out, pulling Blaine back into a hug. "You have fun tonight, Blaine."

"Well, I don't know fun is the right word," Blaine says. "I mean, Kurt's in a pretty serious position right now."

Emma rolls her eyes, letting him go. "You know what I mean, Blaine. Help Kurt cheer up, grow closer to him, strengthen your friendship."

Blaine smiles, nodding. "I will, Emma."

.

.

Kurt's pacing outside of the cafeteria when Blaine reaches him, anxiety practically radiating from him. He jumps a little when he sees Blaine, and almost involuntarily, Blaine reaches out, patting him on the shoulder.

"Calm down. I'm here to help you relax."

"They actually let you go?" Kurt asks, sounding a little surprised.

"I told you," Blaine says. "My nurse is a pushover."

"Well," Kurt sighs, heaving a deep breath. "The waiting room is this way."

He leads Blaine down to the end of the hallway and around the corner. They pass through a main lobby and head for the wing labeled "Cardiovascular Institute." They head through a web of halls, which Blaine finds semi-familiar. The last time he walked along this path, he was too distraught to pay attention. Finally, they reach a smaller lobby, just before a hallway labeled "Recovery Center." Kurt leads Blaine over to a row of chairs, collapsing into one. Blaine sits beside him, looking around.

There are other families sitting around, looking just as worried as Kurt. A woman looks up from across the room, and meeting Blaine's gaze, offers a sad smile. Blaine returns it, feeling the slightest bit startled. So far, she's the only person that's paid attention to him.

It feels weird now, not having the nurse's eyes on him. It feels weird not to be the patient, not be the one worried about, but rather, being the one doing the worrying. However, not necessarily in a bad way. Sure, Blaine wishes circumstances were different, but still it's nice not to be under constant surveillance.

Blaine looks over at Kurt. "So, how are you holding up?"

Kurt shrugs. "Like you would imagine, I suppose."

Blaine frowns. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

Kurt shakes his head, pressing his lips together. "I've dealt with this before, you know. When my mom had cancer, and it's – it's not like I haven't expected the worst."

Blaine's silent for a moment, looking down at his lap. He's never understood how Kurt handles everything so well, and he still doesn't. He thinks he might in the future, but right now he's still amazed at how strong Kurt is, how he still manages to pull himself through it all. Blaine knows he couldn't do that if he was in Kurt's position.

"I miss her," Kurt says suddenly, and Blaine looks over at him. "Usually, I'm fine. I can think about her without feeling that pang. I mean – I've got Carole, I've got my dad, but now – I just – I miss her." He heaves a deep breath. "You know, she was always the strong one. I guess that's where I get it from. My dad used to beat himself up over the way he handled her death – how withdrawn and secluded he became, but I was the same way. We were alone together, if that makes any sense."

Blaine nods slowly; he can understand. It's like him and Kurt right now, actually.

"I know I have Carole and Finn helping me through this," Kurt continues, "but losing my dad, I – I just wish it was my own mom I had, and Blaine, I don't even know. I'm a mess – I miss my mom and I already miss my dad and I'm terrified, and I just – I don't even know what I'm supposed to do." Tears are slipping through, falling down his cheeks, and – it's almost an involuntary reflex now – Blaine reaches for Kurt's hand.

"Hey – shh," Blaine says, giving Kurt's fingers a small squeeze. "I'm going to tell you what you're not going to do, okay? You're not going to assume the worst just yet. You're going to hold on for your dad, and have faith that he'll pull through this. You're not going to withdraw yourself again. You're going to depend on Carole and Finn. And you'll get through it, Kurt – you will."

Blaine doesn't know where this is all coming from, doesn't know how he's able to give this advice and not even be able to follow it himself. He's the exact opposite – it's his signature thing to bottle up all his shit and never talk to anyone, never depend on anyone else, and maybe that's just it. Maybe it's just because Kurt is so different, and Blaine can and _does_ depend on him. Maybe he's spitting out this advice because Kurt is where he learned it first.

Kurt takes a deep breath, using his free hand to wipe away the tears on his face. He keeps his other hand wrapped tight around Blaine's. His breath is shaky as he tries to even it out, hiccupping here and there.

"Thank you, Blaine," he says, before letting out a sigh and letting his head fall back. "God, I'm tired."

"Then why don't we sleep," Blaine suggests. "You can use me as a pillow if you want."

Kurt smiles, resting his head on Blaine's shoulders. He pulls his legs up, and Blaine does the same. They manage to keep their fingers entwined as they get comfortable, and for a second, both of them revel in the feeling of being so close. They both close their eyes, and not thirty seconds after they do so does someone interrupt them.

"Uh – hello?"

They both open their eyes.

"Oh, good."

It's a nurse – young, probably one of the university students, and one that Kurt obviously recognizes because he smiles and straightens up. "Hi, Joanie," he says. "Um – is my dad - ?"

"Still asleep," she replies, "and, actually, I just came over to ask if you wanted to join him. I can't imagine those chairs are very comfortable, and, well, your dad has that extra bed in his room that's not going to be occupied any time soon."

"Could we sleep in there?" Kurt asks, and Joanie laughs.

"Yes, that's what I'm trying to say – go right ahead."

Kurt stands up, pulling Blaine with him. "Oh, thank you so much, Joanie."

"It's not a problem," she replies. "I know you need your rest. And it's not really easy to get in this waiting room."

Kurt opens his mouth to speak, but instead, ends up yawning.

Joanie laughs again. "Go get some sleep, Kurt."

Kurt nods, smiling, and turns away, but Joanie catches him quickly.

"Oh – and," she leans towards him, lowering her voice, "you two are very cute together."

Kurt blushes, looking down at his and Blaine's hands, and he immediately lets go. "Oh, we're not – "

Joanie rolls her eyes. "Whatever you say, Kurt. Just go to bed."

Kurt mumbles something before turning away again. Blaine brings up the hand previously holding Kurt's and rubs the back of his neck, following after. Once they reach Burt's room, they tiptoe quietly inside, glancing over at him every few seconds as they make their way to the bed. Kurt climbs in first, getting situated while also leaving room for Blaine. He motions for Blaine to join him, and he does, sliding along the firm mattress. Kurt pulls up the flimsy sheets, turning on his side. Blaine shimmies up next to him.

"Man, this is much more comfortable than the beds we have," he whispers. "Wow. I see which patients they favor."

Kurt laughs quietly.

"I'm not kidding. They're like freaking cots, and my legs hang off the edge. Kurt, I am_ short_."

Kurt looks back at him, squinting his eyes. "You're not _that_ short."

"Short enough that a bed should be able to fit me," Blaine grumbles.

Kurt laughs again, tucking his head back against the pillows. "Go to sleep, Blaine," he sighs.

"In this comfy bed? Don't mind if I do."

Blaine closes his eyes, and he's suddenly aware of Kurt so close to him. He's aware of how their legs are touching, how his fingertips are grazing Kurt's back, how he can almost feel Kurt breathing. Blaine watches the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes. His eyes trace over his Kurt's neck, his hair, and then back down his body again. As he drifts off, all the stress just melts away, and Blaine suddenly realizes he's seeing Kurt at his most vulnerable. It's just another punch in the gut, really, because Blaine's feelings are only strengthened.

Blaine heaves a sigh. The comment the nurse made is still playing over and over in his head, and he can still see the way Kurt blushed, feel the way Kurt quickly let go in embarrassment – the good kind of embarrassment. Blaine closes his eyes as a smile taunts his lips, and as he too falls asleep, he revels in his feelings instead of pushing them back.


	9. Chapter 8

[ eight. ]

* * *

><p>Blaine wakes to the sound of hushed voices, and it takes him a minute to remember where he is. His eyes flicker open, and he sees Kurt sitting above him, eating what must be his breakfast. Blaine yawns, and then reaches up, stretching his arms.<p>

Kurt looks down at him, grinning. He swallows a bit of his muffin and then says, "Good morning, sleepyhead."

"What time is it?" Blaine asks, and he really hopes Emma's covered for him if he missed group.

"Eight-twelve," Kurt replies, looking down at his watch, and Blaine breathes a sigh of relief. Group isn't until nine today. "You want something to eat?" Kurt asks. "Carole brought a bunch of stuff with her this morning."

Blaine pulls himself up, and that's when he notices Carole and Finn across the room, talking in low voices to Burt, who's now awake. In fact, he's sitting up with a smile on his face, and as Carole finishes saying something, he laughs.

"Your dad doing better?" Blaine asks, turning back to Kurt.

He smiles, nodding. "Yeah – his heartbeat's been pretty steady since last night, and his vitals are apparently excellent."

Blaine grins back, half-laughing. "That's great, Kurt."

Kurt presses his lips together, nodding. "I know. I just hope it continues like this."

Blaine clamps a hand on Kurt's back. "I'm sure it will," he says, rubbing up and down Kurt's spine. He draws back and situates himself more comfortably. His rustling draws the attention of Kurt's family, and Carole does a double glance before smiling widely and crossing the room.

"Blaine!" she says cheerfully. "How are you doing, sweetheart?"

Blaine blushes; he's only met her once, but of course he expects that Kurt might talk about him from time to time. God knows he talks about Kurt enough.

"Um – I'm – I'm doing fine," Blaine says.

"You sure?" Carole asks. "Kurt told us about your brother leaving."

"_Carole,_" Kurt hisses, choking.

"It's fine," Blaine assures, touching Kurt's arm gently. "I've talked about it with my therapist for hours. But yeah – I mean, it's been difficult," he answers honestly. "However, I've been learning to deal with it. He's staying in contact. I'm just missing out on visiting hours; it's not a big deal. Well, not anymore, at least."

Carole nods, smiling. "Well, that's good to hear, Blaine. And, I'm glad you're making progress. Kurt updates us regularly," she adds with a chuckle, and Kurt chokes again, going red.

Blaine nods awkwardly.

"And you know, speaking of," Carole continues, "thank you so much for staying with him last night. I wish Finn and I could have stayed, but I really needed to get him out of this atmosphere for awhile."

Blaine shrugs. "It wasn't a problem, really."

Carole narrows her eyes. "Don't you have rules to follow?"

Blaine swallows hard. "Well, yeah, but I cleared everything with my nurse, and she was more than helpful, so it was fine."

Carole nods again. "Well, good. I wouldn't have wanted you to get in any trouble." It's quiet for a second, and Carole looks over at the clock on the wall. "Do you have to get going by any time, Blaine?"

"Yeah," Blaine replies. "I have group at nine."

"Oh, well that's plenty of time," Carole says. "Come on and grab something to eat, Blaine – before you go."

He stands up, only hesitating to glance back at Kurt and urge him desperately with his eyes to come with him. He hasn't really interacted with Kurt's family since they found out the truth about him. He's going to need Kurt's presence to help him get through the awkwardness. God only knows what they're thinking. Blaine certainly hopes they're not like everyone else who thinks he'll slit his own throat at the drop of a dime. Kurt stumbles up, following after him.

He grabs a muffin from the container that Carole brought and sits down to eat it. This time, as he watches the Hummel-Hudsons interact, he doesn't feel any sadness. It just feels nice. There's a warmth that wraps around him as they laugh and joke around and try to include him. Blaine thinks that this is something he could get used to.

.

.

The next few days fly by, and Blaine lives for the moments he gets to see Kurt and sneak off to spend time with his family. Time is constricted more with his therapy sessions, but he still manages to spend a great deal with them.

Kurt's family seems to genuinely care about Blaine and how his own healing process is coming along. They ask him about how therapy went, how group went, how he's feeling overall. They don't pry, they just ask about the things he had discussed earlier, letting him work through and talk about the things he really needs to. But they never press for information, and if he's uncomfortable, they don't make a big deal – they just nod and say something like, "understandable," and move on. Blaine hates to admit it, but he'd trade them for his family any day. Maybe not Cooper, but that's still a sensitive subject and he doesn't really want to go there.

And speaking of Cooper – since he's off living the dream, he's left Blaine alone on visiting day. Blaine gets out of breakfast and makes his way back to his room to spend the day alone. He thinks maybe he'll go out later to the courtyard, enjoy some of the spring air. However, when he rounds the corner and passes by the receptionist's desk, he sees a very familiar face waiting for him.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, surprised.

Kurt smiles. "What – we can't meet up a little earlier?"

Blaine laughs, unable to help himself.

Kurt gives a shrug. "I figured this might be a little better than being by yourself – un – unless you wanted to be alone," he adds, looking somewhere between questioning and sheepish.

"No, no – it's fine," Blaine says quickly, smiling. "I'd rather be with you, yes."

"Okay, good," Kurt says, grinning back. He begins walking out of the Mood Disorders Center, and Blaine follows after him. "I just want to check in on my dad, and then we can do whatever you want."

"We can just spend the day with your family, if you want," Blaine says. "I've got nothing better to do, and you know I'd enjoy that."

"The morning," Kurt says, and then looks over at Blaine with a smirk. "Then we're getting lunch and doing something semi-fun."

"What – your family's not fun?" Blaine asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kurt shakes his head. "Not all packed together in that room. Plus," he says, a small color rising in his cheeks. "I want some alone time with you – just, so we can talk and . . . whatever you else you want to do. I – I liked being with you the other night. It – it was nice." He laughs nervously, looking down.

Blaine's heart flutters, picking up speed. "Yeah," he says, swallowing hard. "I – I agree."

Kurt clears his throat, and they walk all the way to Burt's room in silence, occasionally looking over and smiling at each other. Kurt opens the door carefully, poking his head inside. Burt's awake, talking with Carole, and Finn's passed out on the spare bed.

"Hey, Kurt," Burt says with a smile, and then seeing him, adds, "Blaine."

"Hey, Mr. Hummel," Blaine replies brightly.

"How are you, son?"

Blaine feels a small warmth rise in his chest at the word "son," but he tries not to show it. He shrugs, pursing his lips. "Fine, I guess," he answers honestly. "I miss my brother, but that's about it. Otherwise, I'm content."

"That's good to hear," Carole cuts in, and Blaine smiles.

He's still so not used to people genuinely caring about him, especially people he's only known for what – three weeks? Blaine's spent nearly seventeen years with his own parents, and it's rare that they ever show any kind of caring nature towards him. Cooper's a little better about it, but not a great deal.

Also – the lack of judgment. Blaine's pretty sure that Kurt's told them everything, so they've got to know about the suicide attempt(s) by now. Usually once people know about that, they start seeing Blaine differently, start looking at him like he's insane. And maybe he is, but that doesn't mean he likes to be treated that way.

"How's your brother doing?" Burt asks. "Do you know?"

"Yeah, actually – he just texted me about thirty minutes ago," Blaine replies. "His first day of filming was Thursday, and he said it went really well. He said his cast mates are really amazing, and he's enjoying the view of Scotland a lot."

Carole nods, and then asks, "And when does he get home again?"

"Seven weeks tomorrow," Blaine replies, pressing his lips together.

"Really?" Burt asks. "That long?"

Blaine nods, laughing awkwardly. "Yeah. It's a pretty big part."

"You'll be home before then?" Carole asks, and again, her nonchalant tone surprises Blaine.

"Yeah," he replies. "I go home in three weeks, actually, but I'll still have appointments every week for a few months afterward, just to make sure I'm getting along."

"You seem like you're doing well," Carole replies, smiling.

Blaine laughs a little. "I am. Well, better than when I came here, at least."

Carole opens her mouth to say something else, but she's interrupted by Kurt clapping his hands together.

"Okay," he says a little forcefully. "I'm sure Blaine's tired of talking about himself – " He flashes an apologetic look at Blaine, who immediately waves it off.

"Honestly, it's okay," Blaine says, looking towards Burt and Carole. "You aren't making me feel awkward at all. It's – it's nice to talk."

"Anyway," Kurt presses. "Blaine and I were just checking in. Now, we'll be going." He turns toward Blaine, raising an eyebrow. "Would you like to grab something to eat?"

Blaine nods. "Sure."

"Great," Kurt says, smiling. He looks over to his parents. "I'll see you guys later, okay?"

He turns and rolls his eyes as he walks towards Blaine, who chuckles as they leave.

"What are you so worked up about?" Blaine asks once they're in the hall.

Kurt sighs. "I should be thankful everything's going back to normal – my parents are once again nosing into the lives of guys I meet, Finn sleeps whenever he feels like it – but I just wanted to get out of there." He looks over to Blaine, grinning shyly. "It's all about us today."

Blaine returns the grin, feeling his neck grow hot. After a minute, he says, "You really didn't have to be so hard on Carole, though. I was perfectly fine."

Kurt gives him a playful shove.

.

.

They eat from the cafeteria, which, of course, tastes much better than the crap Blaine gets in the Mood Disorders Center. Blaine practically inhales his sandwich as Kurt watches with amusement.

"What?" Blaine asks, mouth half-full.

Kurt chuckles. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Anything?" Blaine asks. "Or something that was actually meant to be edible?"

Kurt simply laughs again, and Blaine shakes his head.

"I'm not kidding, Kurt. You don't want to know what I've been living off of. You know, I'm surprised insane people are actually _healed _in that place. You figure with living conditions like that, they'd only get worse."

Kurt nearly chokes. "Just give me a second, okay? Shut up until I finish eating."

"Fine," Blaine says, sitting back.

He puts his hands behind his head and looks around the room. Lately, he's noticed that things seem a little bit brighter, literally and figuratively. Everything seems much more colorful, said colors richer. Every light shines like the sun, and Blaine's begun to wonder if they were always like that, if this whole time, he just couldn't see. He supposes that's the most likely answer, and he almost wants to kick himself for waiting so long to see it.

Blaine turns his attention back to Kurt, watching as he hurries to finish the last bits of his sandwich. Blaine's heart begins to drum fast in his chest as his eyes graze over the slope of Kurt's nose, the intoxicating colors of his eyes, the crisp ruby of his lips. Blaine has to turn away, pressing his lips together. He's not hoping, but he's also still not fighting his feelings. In fact, they seem to be growing stronger, and Blaine knows that eventually, this will be his downfall. He knows he's talked to Marianne about being that special person in someone's life, but the more Blaine thinks about it, the more he decides how likely it is that that person won't be Kurt – it might not even be anyone at all.

At last, Kurt crinkles up his wrappers and stands up, looking down at Blaine as he says, "You ready?"

Blaine nods before joining him. They toss their stuff in the trash, and wander aimlessly out to the courtyard. It's a nice day, sunny and almost cloudless. The birds are out, singing obnoxiously, and for once, Blaine looks out and feels excitement, feels happiness. He's seeing just how beautiful the world is, and he really wants to stay a part of it.

Kurt leads them over to the fountain, and Blaine remembers fondly the time they sang. As soon as Blaine gets back to school, he's going to make the most of his last couple of months and rejoin the Warblers – if they let him, that is. Which he hopes they will. He'll stay after rehearsals, help the council plan dates for impromptu performances. He'll help with finding the songs, help with vocal arrangements. He misses singing, misses it more than he ever thought he might, but all of these silent months alone have proven it.

"What are you humming?" Kurt asks, looking over to him as they sit along the edge of the fountain. "Is that 'Here Comes the Sun'?"

Blaine blushes, clearing his throat. "Yeah," he admits. "I was – the fountain. It reminded me of, you know – "

Kurt smiles, nodding. "Yeah, our duet."

"It was fun," Blaine says. "You were really good."

"Well, don't sell yourself short," Kurt says, nudging his shoulder against Blaine's.

"Eh, I was good, too," Blaine says.

"You were _incredible_," Kurt argues. There's a beat of silence, and then he says, "We should sing together again sometime."

Blaine's heart stutters. "Yeah," he says quietly, looking down at the ground and trying not to smile too wide. "Sometime before you and your family leave."

"I'll see what the glee assignment is next week," Kurt promises. "You can help me out with it."

"I'd love – to," Blaine says, struggling to get the words out, very aware he'd almost replaced "to" with another rhyming word. He coughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

It's silent for a minute or two, and then Kurt asks very quietly, "What are you going to do when you get out?"

Blaine shrugs. "Go back to school," he says. "I mean – I've been keeping up on my work. My assignments are delivered every day between four and five."

Kurt nods, pressing his lips together.

"I don't – I don't plan to try to kill myself again," Blaine says, voice quieter than Kurt's. "I want to live this time around. I mean, I'm still not the happiest person on earth, but I'm making progress. Once – once I get the right anti-depressants, well, hell, I might even be normal."

"Normal?" Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow at him, and Blaine smiles.

"Well, normal as in not a depressed and suicidal gay teen," Blaine says. "I'll still be gay, you know, but I won't be thinking about taking a revolver to my head anymore."

Kurt shakes his head, letting out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff.

"What?" Blaine asks, feeling a little self-conscious.

"Nothing," Kurt says, shaking his head again. "It's just – you have amazing deflecting abilities."

"What can I say? It's something I've been practicing for sixteen years."

"That's awful," Kurt replies, then sighs. "But I can't say I haven't ever done the same thing. It's . . . difficult for me to open up to people."

It's Blaine's turn to raise an eyebrow. "But you opened up to me – a complete stranger?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "You're different. And besides, my dad was in a coma, and I was pushing the limit of things I needed to get off my chest."

Blaine shakes his head, laughing.

"But really," Kurt continues. "How do you do that? Act like everything – like hospitals, depression suicide – how do you act like it's not a big deal?"

"I don't know," Blaine answers honestly. "I just – I never liked talking about it. I absolutely _hate_ talking about what I'm feeling. Being here, it hasn't been easy, because they kind of force it out of you. So when that's not happening, I just kind of revert back to that deflection thing."

"Therapy must be awful," Kurt says.

Blaine laughs. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Definitely not one of my favorite things, but you know, it's helped a lot, so I don't mind it as much. It's group and lectures that I hate. Group is just – group is bad. I'm one of five kids who are severely depressed, but others are . . . well, there are drug addicts, schizophrenics, people with PTSD, people with Dissociative Identity – a whole array of people. That kind of overwhelms me. And lectures, well, they're boring as hell. Everything that comes out of the speaker's mouth I've heard hundreds of times. It's nothing new to me."

"Will you be happy going home?" Kurt asks, leaning a little bit closer.

"I hope," Blaine says, laughing half-heartedly. "I'm not all that thrilled to go back to my parents, but at least I'll get to see my friends again, and Cooper once he comes back," Blaine adds. "And I'll still be coming back here for check-ups, and maybe therapy if we can't find someone in Westerville. Yeah, I think being at home will be better than being stuck here. I just don't know right now how_ much_ better."

Kurt nods. "I can understand that. Not from personal experience, but I get what you're saying." It's quiet for a second, and then Kurt says, quiet again, "I hope you're happy, Blaine. You deserve it."

Blaine looks over at him, smiling shyly. "You do, too," he says softly. "You _and _your family."

Kurt grins, biting his lip, and that's when Blaine's eyes flicker down towards his mouth. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, and his head is spinning so fast he can hardly see. Kurt swallows hard, and he too look down, eyeing Blaine's lips. Blaine's throat feels tight, and he can hardly breathe, but he ignores it because Kurt is leaning forward and Blaine's instincts are pulling him to meet Kurt.

There's a moment where Blaine swears the Earth stops spinning, but then Kurt's lips are crashing against his own and everything jolts back into place. Blaine's hands move up to cup Kurt's face, and he feels Kurt's fingers splayed across his cheek and around the back of his neck.

Blaine doesn't even know how to describe what he's feeling, but it's the most elated he's felt in a long time. It's suddenly as if the sun is shining right in front of his closed eyelids, brightening up the world around him and filling him with a deep glowing feeling. For this split second, there's no more darkness, no more sadness, no more hopeless feeling.

Blaine's kissing Kurt Hummel, and this is the happiest he's ever felt.

And when they pull apart, it doesn't go away. It only increases, Blaine's stomach doing excited flip flops as he looks into Kurt's eyes. A laugh bubbles out of his chest and he wonders if he'll ever stop smiling.

"Was that better than lectures?" Kurt asks, breathless, and Blaine doesn't fail to notice he looks just as happy.

"Definitely," Blaine says, his reply nearly cut off as Kurt pulls him back in for another –

"Kurt!"

They spring apart, hearts pounding as they turn their attention to Finn, who's walking straight toward them. Kurt lets out a small noise of frustration.

"Finn," he says curtly, "what do you want?"

Finn blinks, a little taken aback at the tone of Kurt's voice. "I just – Burt said you guys had gone to get something to eat so I was going to join you, but I couldn't find you in the cafeteria. I figured you guys might be out here."

"Well, we are – so what do you want?" Kurt says, voice still icy.

"I just wanted to chill with you guys," Finn says, taking a half-step back. "I'm not hanging out with Mom and Burt all day."

"Don't you want to eat?" Kurt asks. "Go get something, and then meet us out here when you're done."

Finn looks highly confused now as he turns. "Right, okay. I'll – I'll see you guys in a few."

Blaine snickers as he walks away, and Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Why'd you send him away?" Blaine asks, though he already knows the answer.

Kurt doesn't say anything. He simply grabs Blaine by the collar of his cardigan and pulls him close again.

.

.

"Seriously, I don't know why you were so pushy earlier," Finn mutters.

Kurt lets out a heavy sigh. "Just get over it, Finn."

Blaine holds back a laugh as they round the last corner to Burt's room. He'd promised Finn and Kurt he'd walk them back before he went to group tonight, but they'd started arguing on the way and now he's left trailing behind them, far too amused.

"Boys, boys," he interrupts. "Let's not kill each other."

Kurt looks back at him, grinning.

No one knows about the first kiss and the few minutes they shared behind a tree while Finn was eating. Blaine isn't sure what's going to happen now. Are they friends? Friends with benefits? Something more? Blaine doesn't know what's going to happen, but right now he doesn't really care. His dreams are coming true, and he's not going to waste time worrying about it.

They enter Burt's room and Blaine wonders if they can sense it. If Burt and Carole can take one look at Kurt and Blaine, see the brightness in their eyes, and know what happened. Blaine doubts Burt can, but Carole's a little harder to guess.

"There you guys are," Burt says, and then grimaces. "Goddamnit."

"What?" Carole asks anxiously.

He looks down, lifting his arm up and examining it. "Nothing," he says. "I just thought I hit my arm against something. Well, anyway – where have you three been all day?"

"Outside," Kurt replies.

"Doing what?" Burt asks. "There can't be much to do here."

Kurt shares a quick glance with Blaine, and blushes, though it's not too obvious. "We just walked around, mostly," Kurt says. "It was a nice day."

"Well," Blaine says. "I've got group in fifteen minutes, so I suppose I should be going. It was nice seeing you all today."

"Oh, it was nice seeing you too," Carole says. "And, you know – "

She's cut off as Burt lets out another curse under his breath.

The next minute or so seems to take years to unfold, though at the same time, it feels like it happens in a flash. Burt's monitors start going crazy, his vitals moving to dangerous levels. His heartbeat goes uneven, and then stops altogether. Carole bends over him, screaming his name again and again. Kurt and Finn stand frozen, their faces horrified. Blaine feels like he's watching it all from a distance, nauseous as the terror and fear grip him tightly. Nurses come rushing in, pushing them all back. Kurt, Finn, Carole, and Blaine are all ushered out into the hallway, the long, steady beep ringing in their ears. Kurt rushes over to Blaine, holding onto him fiercely. Blaine holds him back, and they wait, holding their breath as they listen to the sound of the flatline. There are shouts of _"Clear!"_ followed by a sharp buzz.

And then it all stops, and somebody calls it.


	10. Chapter 9

[ nine. ]

* * *

><p>The rest of the night is blur.<p>

Blaine remembers wrapping his arms tightly around Kurt's waist as he sobbed into Blaine's shoulder. He remembers closing his eyes and pressing his cheek against the top of Kurt's head as the tears leaked through. He remembers Finn going into shock and sinking down to the floor where he put his head in his hands. He remembers Carole pleading frantically with the nurses before she finally understood what they were trying to tell her.

Eventually, Kurt's taken away from him. He's whisked away along with his family, and Blaine remembers peaking into Burt's room only to see his now lifeless body lying on the bed. Somehow, Blaine ends up in a bathroom, throwing up all the contents of his stomach. He doesn't remember how he gets back to the Mood Disorders Center, but he does. He remembers finding Emma, pleading with her and begging her to get him out of group and lecture.

Marianne ends up in the picture somehow and Blaine remembers spending a long time in her office, trying to talk but never finding the words. He starts out on the couch, curled into a ball, and then suddenly, he's standing up, grabbing the throw pillows from the couch and hurling them across the room. That's when Marianne calls Emma in and Blaine's taken, not to his room, but to a padded room. He's not shoved into a straightjacket, which Blaine's thankful for, because he immediately begins punching the walls, letting out all his anger, anxiety, and confusion. He punches and punches until his arms get tired and his legs give out underneath him.

He lays on the one mattress until Emma comes back with a small cup of water and a pill. She orders Blaine to take it, telling him that it'll knock him out, help him get to sleep, and he takes it without hesitation, just wanting to get away right now. He's not sure what the hell he's taken, but thankfully, his sleep ends up dreamless, and it does help to calm him down, if just for the night.

.

.

When Blaine wakes up, he finds that a blanket's been draped over him. He's surprisingly comfortable, though he's not sure what it is about the padded room that feels nicer than his own. However, as he pushes himself up, he's alerted to the aches all over his body, throbbing especially in his head and neck. He lets out a groan and falls back to the floor.

Slowly, everything is starting to come back to him. His mind is piecing through everything that happened last night, but it's still so unclear. There are only two things Blaine knows for sure: Burt's dead, and Blaine lost his mind. A sinking feeling grips him, and something in his chest clenches tight.

He doesn't even know what he's supposed to be feeling right now. He hardly knew Burt, but at the same time – the guy cared about him more than Blaine's father ever did. Blaine had been starting to feel at home with that family, only to have everything whisked away yet again.

Blaine begins thinking about Kurt, how awful he must be feeling. Blaine thinks about just a few hours before everything came crashing down, when they were kissing behind that tree in the courtyard and all of Blaine's dreams came true.

What's going to happen now?

Blaine's not sure, and he doesn't know if he's ready to find out. He just wants Kurt to be okay, wants _them _to be okay. However, he knows that's going to be no easy feat. Kurt's father has just died, for God's sake, there's going to be a lot of different struggles. Blaine just hopes they can get through them together.

There's a knock on the door, and Blaine sits up. Slowly, the door opens, and Emma peeks her head inside. She smiles once she sees Blaine, stepping into the room.

"How are you?" she asks, a little wary, and Blaine can feel the tension.

"Calmer," he replies with a sigh.

Emma nods, twisting her hands together, and Blaine feels a small pang of guilt. He can't remember exactly what he did last night, but it must have been bad. Not only because of the padded room confinement, but also because of the fact that Emma's staring at him with a very obviously nervous expression on her face.

"I'm sorry," Blaine adds, quieter. "I didn't – I don't remember everything that happened, but what I can – that was uncalled for."

Emma shakes her head, lowering herself to kneel beside Blaine. She reaches out, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No. Honestly, it wasn't, Blaine. Whatever happened, it affected you greatly, and in your condition . . . You're healing, Blaine, that's true. But you're still vulnerable, still susceptible to things like that."

"Still," Blaine says earnestly. "I'm sorry."

Emma gives him a pat, and then draws her hand back. "Do you – are you comfortable with telling me what happened?" she asks carefully, and Blaine swallows hard, looking away from her. "It's okay if you're not," Emma adds quickly.

Blaine shakes his head, taking a deep breath. "It's just – Kurt's father died last night."

Emma's eyes widen, and it's obvious she understands. "I'm – I'm so sorry."

Blaine presses his lips together. "I didn't know him well, really, but he cared about me, and I just – it would have been nice to have someone like him around after I got out of here."

Emma nods, and she reaches out, rubbing her hand up and down Blaine's arm. "How are things between you and Kurt?"

Blaine's stomach flip-flops, and his heart stutters. "Actually, I – I don't know. I hope we're doing well, because – " He breaks off, taking a deep breath. Staring at his lap, he says softly, "Kurt kissed me yesterday. We got lunch together and then went out to the courtyard, and he kissed me."

Emma stares at him for a moment, surprised, and then she smiles hesitantly. "Well, Blaine – that's great. I – I really hope you two manage to work things out in your favor."

"Me too," Blaine says, and he bites his lip. "I – I really like him."

"Have you felt like that for awhile?" Emma asks.

Blaine shrugs. "Well, I've only noticed the feelings for about a week and a half."

"I've known longer than that," Emma says with a sly smile, and Blaine smirks half-heartedly. There are a few moments of silence, and then Emma says, "You really care about him, don't you?"

Blaine nods, smiling shakily. "I really do. He's the one that's given me hope to get through this, Emma. With – without him, I don't know what I'd do."

"Well, I wish you the best of luck," Emma says, offering a small look of encouragement.

Blaine heaves a sigh, letting the room fall quiet. After a minute or two, Emma stands up.

"Well, we should get going," Emma says. "Breakfast is waiting."

Blaine pushes himself up reluctantly and follows after her, eager to get out of the padded room. He sincerely hopes he'll never have to set foot in it again, no matter how much more comfortable it is than his own room. Being in there makes him feel like a complete lunatic, and it's the last thing he needs.

.

.

Blaine doesn't see Kurt at all for the rest of the day. Or the day after that. It isn't until four days, fifty-six unanswered texts, and seventeen missed calls later that Blaine finally runs into Kurt in the lobby of the Cardiovascular Institute.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks, and he's almost convinced it's not him. Blaine was sure Kurt had completely forgotten about him (and nearly had to spend another night in the padded room).

He turns, finding Blaine's eyes. He forces a weak, insincere smile and walks over to him.

"Hi," he says quietly.

"Oh my god, I've been worried sick about you," Blaine says, and he tries to keep his voice even. "You haven't been answering my texts or calls, and I – I haven't seen you. How – how are you holding up?" He swallows hard, feeling the tightness in his throat.

Kurt shrugs, looking past Blaine.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks. "Look, I – I know what sadness feels like, what pain feels like. I have depression, remember? If anyone's going to understand, it's me."

Kurt's eyes snap back, and he narrows them as he looks at Blaine. "Have you ever lost a parent?"

"No," Blaine says slowly. "I mean not to death, but they don't really care about me, so – "

"Then I don't think you'd understand," Kurt says, and his voice has a sharpness to it.

Blaine involuntarily takes a step back, his heart starting to pound hard in his chest. He swallows against the ever-present lump in his throat, and continues in a small voice, "Kurt?"

"You don't get it," Kurt continues, clenching his teeth together. "You've never lost someone you love, Blaine. You don't understand this kind of pain, okay? You may understand other kinds, but not this, and it's not going to help me if you pretend like you do."

Blaine's silent for a long moment as he stares at Kurt, trying to wrap his head around what Kurt's saying and the way that he's acting. "What – what are you trying to say?"

Kurt sighs and runs a hand across his worn face. "I'm saying that . . . you're not helping. I don't want to talk to you about this, and I – I'm sorry about ignoring you the past few days, but maybe – maybe if it's best if we just cooled things down for awhile."

Blaine blinks, still lost. He's starting to get a hint of what Kurt wants, and it's making him nauseous. It's definitely not what Blaine wants for them.

"So – so this is it?" Blaine asks, his voice shaking. "After everything, you're just going to forget and move on? After all those times we reached out to each other and leaned on each other? After what happened the other day? That – that all meant nothing to you?" Blaine can feel the backs of his eyes burning, but he wills himself not to give in. Not now.

Kurt sighs again, running a hand through his hair and gripping it tight for a second. "No, Blaine, I just – I'm saying that – I have a lot going on right now, okay?"

"I do, too, you know," Blaine says coldly. "I've had a lot going on this whole time."

Kurt stops short, raising his eyebrows, his mouth hanging open slightly. "Blaine, I – my dad, he – he's dead."

"Yeah, well you know what?" Blaine asks. "I wish _I_ was."

Kurt shakes his head, pressing his lips together. "Blaine, don't – don't you do that to me."

"Do what?" Blaine asks. "Be honest? Because that's all I'm doing." He can feel sobs building in his throat, threatening to surface, but he manages to hold them back.

"Blaine, seriously," Kurt says. "You can't guilt-trip me at a time like this. Look, I didn't say I wouldn't like to be friends. I didn't mean anything like that, okay? I'm just – I'm really messed up right now. I'm planning a funeral and trying and failing to mourn. Plus, I've got school and glee club, and I feel like I'm going to fall apart at the seams. Don't – don't turn this into a 'my horse is bigger than your horse' thing."

"I'm not trying to," Blaine says, blinking at him in surprise. "I just – I wanted to help, Kurt. I wanted to help you cope, but you replied by trying to make me feel inadequate. You – you don't even know the least of it. Do – do you really think I'm just trying to guilt-trip you? That I'm joking around and trying to take advantage of you by just throwing out some suicidal comment? Because newsflash, Kurt – I've been suicidal for two and a half years."

Kurt's eyes widen, and he holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "No, Blaine – I never – "

"You never meant anything like that?" Blaine asks, and his voice is beginning to rise. "Well, it came out like that. And look, Kurt, I know you're going through a rough time right now, but so am I, and I just – I don't appreciate you pushing me off to the side without considering what I'm feeling."

"I'm not trying to push you off to the side," Kurt says disbelievingly. "Blaine, why can't you understand that I just can't worry about us right now? I have to work through the mess of my life before I can even begin to figure this out."

"So, we can't – we can't even be friends?" Blaine asks. "You're just – you're going to walk away and never come back? You're just going to turn your back on me?"

"No," Kurt says, but he doesn't sound confident about his answer.

"Are we – are we even allowed to text Kurt?" Blaine asks, his voice growing soft again. "Can we even talk?"

"I – I don't know."

Blaine nods, pressing his lips together. He feels like the sobs are going to break through any second, so he swallows hard again, pushing them back.

"Well, alright," he says. "That's – that's just great, Kurt. Because it's not like I depended on you. It's not like I dreamt about that kiss before it happened. It's not like you're the one that saved me from myself. It's not like you're the one that made me see a light out of the darkness. Whatever, it's fine."

Kurt's face falls, the hard lines and angles going smooth. "Blaine – "

Blaine shakes his head, and tears are falling now. "No, Kurt, forget it. It doesn't even matter. You can delete my number from your phone. You can walk out of here and never come back. I get it – I'm not important enough to you."

Kurt's eyebrows crease together, and anger enters his expression again. "Blaine, I never said that. Will you please stop putting words in my mouth?"

"Well, it's pretty easy to guess what you're thinking," Blaine replies acidly. "You're just like everyone else, Kurt. You don't understand how depression works, and that's fine. You don't understand how different things can trigger me, I get it. But I just figured when I was so open and honest with you, you could return the favor. I figured that maybe you would understand how much I need you, but honestly, it's fine. You've got bigger to things to worry about; everyone does." He chokes a little, his mind flashing back to Cooper. "Honestly, Kurt – just forget about me, okay? I knew from the day I got here that I'd never be able to fix anything. "

Kurt hesitates, staring at Blaine. "Blaine, I – I don't know what to say, okay? I mean, I'm sorry, but I just – you have to understand what I'm going through – "

"What _you're _going through?" Blaine asks, incredulous. He turns on the spot, pivoting around his heel. "God, what don't you get, Kurt? You have a support system, okay? You have people there ready to help you through this, including me. Do you know what I have? Nothing. Cooper's gone, my parents don't even care about me. You know, they haven't visited me – not once. They'd rather have me dead, and I'm about ready to grant that wish. Kurt, I don't have anything. I had you, but it's clear to me right now that you don't even care. You'll walk out of here and deal with your problems and eventually move on. I won't. I'll keep living each day in agony until that precious moment that death takes me away." Blaine laughs, almost hysterical. "You are so goddamn lucky, and you don't even know it!"

"Lucky?" Kurt asks, and he_ is_ hysterical. "Please tell me you're joking, Blaine. I'm an _orphan_."

"Yeah, well that doesn't define who you are," Blaine replies. "My illness does. You can still mourn and move on and keep living your life. Do you even realize how difficult that would be for me? I can't do that. I can't move on from anything. Nothing works. No matter what I do, Kurt. So you know what, you can take your problems and just get out of here. Obviously, you're not going to stick around, so it's best we just get this over with now."

Kurt stands, frozen, staring at Blaine with a mixture of shock and disgust.

"What?" Blaine asks.

Kurt scoffs. "You're _unbelievable_. I can't believe that you don't have any sympathy for me. Why are you being so heartless?"

"Because I'm dead on the inside," Blaine answers.

Kurt rolls his eyes and begins to turn away.

Blaine's anger disappears almost completely, replaced by a stabbing sadness in his chest. The sobs start to break free and he's tripping over his next words.

"Yeah, just go ahead Kurt. You don't even care about me, do you? Well, might as well just add another funeral to your list. I'll do my best to get it over with as soon as possible so it doesn't mess up your mourning schedule."

Kurt turns around as he leaves, shooting Blaine a glare.

Blaine watches as he walks away, out towards the parking lot. By now, the pain in his chest is sharp, and the sobs begin to rip through his throat. His head is spinning, and his stomach is churning. He can't believe that just happened. All his hope and happiness – just shattered.

Cooper's gone, his parents don't care, and now Kurt's just left him.

But now it's all clear, at least. He's not going to get better. Not ever. What happened with Kurt was just the last final tease, and Blaine knows what he has to do now. But first, his stomach demands his attention. He makes his way to the bathroom, and hurries into one of the stalls, falling to his knees as he vomits a few times. Gripping the sides of the toilet, he hangs his head, his forehead resting against the cool porcelain.

Soon this will all be over.

Soon there won't be any more pain.

.

.

The razor feels like some sort of weight in his pocket, attached to a loud siren and flashing lights. He knows that no one can see it, but still, it's making him anxious. He can't sit still and his nerves feel like they're on fire. But Blaine's almost used to it; he felt like this the last two times as well.

Blaine looks around the lobby as he enters the Mood Disorders Center. He spots Emma across the room, speaking with a different patient. He hurries through the room, turning into the hallway that leads to his and Puck's room. Blaine knows that Puck will be gone at therapy for the next hour or so, so he'll have the room to himself to do this.

When he reaches their room, anxiety is practically bubbling in his stomach, but at the same time, he almost feels a sense of accomplishment. By the time Puck returns, Blaine will finally have achieved what he's always wanted. He'll finally be free of the pain and the worry and the fear; he'll be _happy_.

Blaine makes his way into the bathroom, his legs a little shaky. He takes one look in the mirror and then begins.

_It's over,_ he thinks. _It's finally over_.

.

.

Puck breathes a sigh of relief as he reaches the room he shares with Blaine. He's got an hour of free time before group starts, and it's the perfect time to take a nap. That'll hopefully lift his spirits and take his mind off his father and the therapy session he just finally escaped.

He steps inside, and that's when Puck notices the bathroom door ajar. He feels his eyebrows crease together as he moves forward. Something's wrong, so very wrong.

"Blaine?"

He's there, slumped on the ground with a pool of blood around him, oozing out from his mutilated arms.

"_Blaine!"_

Puck lowers himself to the ground, not even caring that Blaine's blood is soaking through his jeans. Blaine's chest is still moving up and down, and his skin is warm.

"_Somebody help! Mrs. Pillsbury! Anyone! We've got some guy bleeding to death in here! Please, help me!"_

"_Blaine… "_


	11. Chapter 10

**WARNING:** there is a small bit of sexual harassment in this chapter

* * *

><p>[ ten. ]<p>

* * *

><p>Kurt wakes up around five, his head aching. His sinuses still feel a little clogged, and he remembers that he'd sobbed himself to sleep the night before. He pushes himself out of bed, and, looking down, realizes he's still dressed in the clothes he wore yesterday. Normally, he'd never do that, but lately, he doesn't really care.<p>

Kurt looks around his room, sighing at the mess it's become. He's really got no time on his hands lately, and rushing around trying to frantically get everything he needs done all while trying to remain emotionally stable is really taking its toll on him. In fact, he's thinking about skipping school today; he needs to rest. He'll talk to Carole when she wakes up and ask her to call him in.

Sighing, Kurt swipes up his phone from his bedside table. There's the usual batch of encouraging texts from the glee club, this round including words from Mercedes, Rachel, Tina, Artie, and Sam. There are also two from Blaine, and, against his better judgment, Kurt opens them. He reads them, and is thoroughly perplexed.

**Blaine**  
><em>hey this isn't blaine it's his roommate puck. i'm going through his phone and trying to find people to contact because his parents aren't answering.<em>

**Blaine (cont.)  
><strong>_i saw your number at the top of the list so i'm going to call you and explain everything becuz i don't want to over text._

Kurt exits out of the message, and sure enough, there's a little red number one over his missed calls, as well as his voicemail. Kurt swallows hard before going to listen to the message.

"_Hey, like I said in that text, I'm Blaine's roommate, Puck. The hospital's been trying to contact to his parents, but they aren't answering, so I took it upon myself to call Blaine's friends and alert them about what's going on. You're the last person he texted, so I figured you must be pretty important. Uh, the thing is – Blaine's in the ICU right now. He tried to kill himself like an hour ago, and he's lost a lot of blood. Um, I guess he might be in some kind of comatose state right now, but I'm not exactly sure. Anyway, I just figured you'd like to know, and it would be really good if you could come visit him or whatever, because I think Blaine could use somebody right now."_

The ending beep, sounds and Kurt nearly drops his phone. It slips between his fingers and he catches it at the last second by reflex. In short, Kurt feels like he's going to throw up. Last night, he was so fed up, so tired of everything, and he hadn't even thought twice about the things he'd said to Blaine or leaving him behind. And he honestly hadn't thought Blaine was serious. (Which in hindsight was pretty stupid, because Blaine was in a mental hospital for God's sake).

Kurt sits down on the edge of his bed and runs his fingers through his hair. He looks down at his phone, seeing that Puck had called him last night at eight, which means Blaine had tried to commit suicide around seven – just three hours after they had talked. And now apparently, he's in intensive care and possibly a coma. Kurt feels his eyes sting, and he closes them, shaking his head.

He doesn't know how long he sits, letting everything sink in and fighting the urge to cry, but eventually he has enough to sense to get up and make he was way downstairs, planning to head to the hospital. He finds a pen and a piece of paper in the junk drawer of the kitchen and scribbles a note to Carole. And then he's on his way, feeling more and more on edge as he drives to the hospital.

It's a long drive, but, at last, Kurt pulls into the parking lot. He rushes inside to the ICU, skidding to a halt in front of the receptionist.

"Hi," he says, and his voice sounds shaky. "Um, I'm – I'm looking for Blaine Anderson? He was just staying in the Mood Disorders Center, and I guess he tried to kill himself again and lost a lot of blood?"

The receptionist is a little startled, but she says calmly, "Ah, yes – Mr. Anderson is staying in room one-oh-eight. That'll be straight ahead, and then take the first right. It should be down that hallway."

Kurt nods, thanking her, and then hurries off. He takes deep breaths as he walks down the hall, trying and failing to brace himself for what he's about to see. The door to Blaine's room is wide open, and Kurt looks around before stepping inside. His heart just about falls to his feet.

Blaine looks positively awful. He's pale as snow, dark circles etched underneath his eyes. However, it's his arms that send shivers up Kurt's spine. They're covered in thick bandages, but some blood has still leaked through, and Kurt can now guess the method that Blaine used. Nausea rages in Kurt's stomach and he begins to wonder if what happened yesterday hurt Blaine so bad that he was really that desperate for release, that he actually sat down and drove a razor through his skin over and over in order to drain himself of blood at an incredibly slow pace.

"Can I help you?"

Kurt jumps, startled. He hadn't noticed the nurse sitting at the desk in the corner.

"I just – I'm – I'm here for Blaine," he says, blinking fast against the tears he feels coming. "How's – how's he doing?"

The nurse hesitates, pressing her lips together slightly. "Well, he's been given a few blood transfusions, so he's not in danger of blood loss anymore."

"What about the comatose state?" Kurt asks.

The nurse shrugs. "I just know that he's been unconscious since we brought him here last night. I think the doctors are hoping he'll wake up within the next twenty-four hours. The blood transfusions should help."

Kurt nods, blinking fast again. He doesn't know how much longer he can try and hold it together. He takes a step towards Blaine, not even sure what he's planning to do. He just wants to see Blaine open his eyes and smile. He wants to tell Blaine how sorry he is for being so inconsiderate yesterday, and just – that he's stupid. That he's so stupid for not considering Blaine's feelings and cutting off their friendship and saying the things that he did.

"Excuse me?"

Kurt turns, looking at the nurse. She's staring at him curiously.

"Yes?"

"Are – are you, by any chance, Kurt?"

Kurt blinks, surprised and more than a little suspicious. "How – how do you know that?"

"I was Blaine's nurse in the MDC," she says. "I'm Emma Pillsbury."

"Kurt Hummel," he says.

"I – I don't mean to pry, but, are you – did something happen with you and Blaine? The rest of the staff and I have been trying to figure out what provoked Blaine, and he – well, he talks of you very fondly."

Kurt swallows hard. Will – will they blame him for this if he tells the truth?

"Well," Kurt starts, hesitant. "I mean – I haven't really talked to him in the last few days since my dad died. And – and we – he and I, uh – we talked yesterday and had a bit of a disagreement."

Emma nods, as if it all makes sense to her. "Well, listen, Kurt," she says, taking a step closer to him. "You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened, okay? Blaine hasn't exactly been stable these last few weeks. In fact, we haven't even started him on anti-depressants. That was going to happen next week." She breaks off, letting out a sigh. "It's always hard for people to deal with friends or family who have a mental illness. You're not always sure what can set them off, what can trigger the illness and the actions that follow, so don't take this out on yourself, Kurt. Whatever happened yesterday, you couldn't have known how Blaine would react. Blaine has a lot of issues to work out – whatever happened between you two was just one of them – and he's incapable of dealing with them normally. The depression prevents that, so it really isn't your fault, Kurt. Okay?"

He could say a million things in retort. He could tell her how he could have been more careful, could have been less harsh. He could have reminded himself that Blaine was depressed and suicidal, therefore being more cautious about the things that he said. He could have tried to understand the position Blaine was in. But Kurt doesn't say any of that. Instead he just nods, offering a weak, insincere smile.

"Well," Emma says. "I've got to get back to the MDC. If I don't see you later – goodbye, Kurt."

Kurt nods. "Goodbye."

He watches as she leaves the room, her words still swirling around in his mind. He doesn't exactly agree with her, but he knows he should. Right now, he's just too focused on the fact that after he fought with Blaine, after Blaine talked about being suicidal, he went off and tried to kill himself as soon as Kurt was gone. Kurt had a hand in this, and he really can't _not_ blame himself.

Kurt's breath starts to hitch and shudder, the tears beginning to fall down his face. He lets out a small sob and moves forward. He grabs a chair and scoots up to Blaine's bedside, laying his hand on Blaine's arm.

"H – hi, Blaine," he begins quietly. "Listen, I – I know you can't hear me, but I have to let this out. Blaine, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I said those things to you. I'm sorry I accused you of just trying to guilt-trip me and that I didn't take your feelings seriously. I'm just really sorry that I even thought about cutting things off in the first place." He's crying hard now, his eyes locked on Blaine's pale face as he rambles.

"And, you know, the truth is – the – the other day when we kissed, it was amazing, Blaine. I – I really care about you and it was stupid of me to let grief get in the way of that. You mean a lot to me. You have since the day we met, and I've really begun to fall for you, okay? So, please, just hang in there. Just – just stay alive for me, okay? Blaine, I can't deal with someone else I care about leaving me. Ev – even though I almost left you – I – that was just stupid. I couldn't have done it anyway, Blaine. I just – I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, and I'd take everything I said back if I could. You're my best friend, Blaine, and honestly? I'd like you to be more. So, God, just – just don't die. Don't die. Don't ever try to kill yourself again, and please, _please_ stay strong for me. I – "

Kurt hangs his head, letting the sobs engulf him. He lets them rack his body, shaking him to his core. He feels the pain gripping his chest, tearing at his heart, and he lets it all out. He cries and he cries until he can't find any tears left, and he reaches out, grabbing Blaine's hand and holding it tightly.

"Don't give up, Blaine," he croaks out. "You mean too much to me to die."

Blaine does nothing. His hand stays limp in Kurt's, and Kurt hangs his head again, closing his eyes and wishing he could wake up from this nightmare.

.

.

_The bell rings overhead, and Blaine lets out a groan as he rushes through the hallway, clutching his books tightly to his chest. He really can't afford to be late again, but it looks like being on time is out of question._

_As he rounds the corner, he slams into something hard._

"_Hey – "_

_And he's thrown to the ground, books flying out of his hand._

" – _watch where you're going, faggot."_

.

.

_The airport is bustling, and Blaine keeps tightly to his mother's side. Today, they're escorting Cooper to his flight to Los Angeles. After getting his acting degree, or as he put it –"wasting precious time in class to get a piece of paper that means nothing in Hollywood", he hadn't been able to wait to move. He's been so excited to start getting real auditions and real acting jobs, and since graduation, he's been so happy and bright. _

_And the happier he is, the sadder Blaine feels. Blaine doesn't want Cooper to leave. Not yet, anyway. He'd just like Cooper to stay until he's finished with high school. He starts his freshman year in just two weeks, and, to be honest, he's terrified. He knows the bullying's going to be even worse this year – plus he's taking harder classes, he's on the soccer team, and he's thinking about joining choir. _

_Not to mention, he'd like to come out._

_But he doesn't think he can do it without Cooper. Cooper might have not always paid attention to Blaine, but he was generally supportive in an annoying, "great, but you could do better" kind of way. Somehow, Blaine just knows that Cooper would be the one to tell; he's the only person right now that Blaine feels comfortable telling. His parents – they sound like a nightmare. And the kids at school – well, they wouldn't really be surprised. They'd probably just up the bullying._

_Blaine looks up as they reach Cooper's terminal. His mother is already crying, and his father smiles, eyes glittering with pride. Blaine wishes he could get that look out of their father, hopes that maybe someday he can. _

_Cooper hugs their parents first, promising his mother that he'll call every day, and yes, he'll be careful in L.A. He reaches Blaine, a bright smile on face, which contrasts with the empty feeling that's settled in Blaine's chest._

"_I'm going to miss you, bud," he says, clapping Blaine on the shoulder._

"_I'll miss you too," Blaine replies. "Good – good luck, Cooper."_

_Cooper pulls him in for a tight hug, tucking his head against Blaine's. Blaine closes his eyes, willing with all of his energy for Cooper not to leave, but when Cooper pulls away, he knows he's being stupid. Cooper's twenty-three, and he's got a life to live. He always has, and he always will; Blaine should be used to it._

_But it still hurts when Cooper turns, waving one last goodbye before boarding his plane._

_._

_._

_Another night, another strained family meal._

_Blaine plays with his food, waiting for the questions to start rolling again._

_Lately, his parents have been extra overbearing. Now that he's in high school, they've just locked down on him, checking up on him as much as they can to make sure that he's keeping up his grades and behaving and doing everything that they want him to do._

"_So, Blaine," his mother starts, and he stifles a sigh. "You've got your first high school dance coming up; are you excited?"_

"_Yes, mother," he replies, hoping his sarcasm isn't too obvious._

"_Are you going to ask anyone special?"_

_Blaine shrugs, taking a bite to keep from talking._

"_You know," his father joins in. "My friend Robert has a daughter around your age. I'm sure you'd like her, Blaine."_

_And there goes Blaine's appetite._

_No – he's fairly certain he won't like this Robert guy's daughter. He's fairly certain he won't like any girl his parents try to set him up with._

"_Actually," he says, "I don't think I'm going to the dance."_

"_Why not?" his mother asks, confused._

"_I have a big test the following Monday," Blaine explains. "I need all the study time I can get."_

"_Well, if you're sure," his mother says, disappointed._

"_Do you want me to talk to Robert anyway?" his father presses._

"_No – that's okay," Blaine says hurriedly. "I'm sure his daughter is a lovely girl, but I'm just not – I'm not interested in being in a relationship right now. I just started high school, I've got loads of homework to do, the soccer season is in full swing. I'm good."_

_His father nods, heaving a sigh, and Blaine looks down at his plate to hide his exasperated look._

.

.

"_Thanks for going with me, Blaine. I had a really nice time tonight."_

_Blaine looks down at his shoes, smiling to the ground. A hand wraps itself around his, and his breath hitches as he looks up, finding Jason's eyes. Jason gives his fingers a squeeze, and Blaine smiles wider. Jason's hand feels nice in his. The early spring night is chilly, but Blaine feels completely warm. He's not even sure he wants Jason's dad to pick them up. He'd stay here all night if it meant being with Jason._

"_I had a nice time, too."_

_Jason smiles back at him, and that's when they begin to hear the jeers and the laughter._

_Both Jason and Blaine turn as Andrew and his gang come walking toward them, one of them holding a case of beer. Blaine's heart leaps into his throat, and he begins backing away, pulling Jason with them._

"_What – what should we do?"_

"_Just stay calm," Jason says. "Just – just try to ignore them. My dad'll be here soon."_

_Blaine nods, swallowing hard. They continue to back away, turning now to walk to the front door of the school. If they could just get around some more people, they'd feel safe. But before Blaine can even take a deep breath, a hand comes down hard on his shoulder. He tries to pull away, but someone grips his neck, pulling him back and yanking him away from Jason._

"Blaine!"

"_What's going on, faggots?"_ _Andrew asks, looking between Blaine and Jason. They're both struggling against one of Andrew's friends, trying to free themselves from the tight grips. "Man, I was looking forward to this dance, but then you two homos had to go and infect it with your fairy dust. 'S disgusting."_

_Blaine doesn't like the way he's slurring his words. His heart races even faster, adrenaline coursing through his veins._

"_I think," Andrew says, grinning, "that we should teach you two a lesson about how to behave." He makes a grab for Jason, pulling him forward and then throwing him to the ground. Jason closes his eyes tightly as he gasps for breath._

"_Jason!" Blaine shouts involuntarily._

_Andrew laughs, looking over to him. "Oh, Blaine." _

_He walks over slowly, staring Blaine up and down. Blaine thrashes against the hold Andrew's friend has got on him, but to no avail. Andrew reaches out, his hands sliding into Blaine's hair, his fingers then closing around Blaine's curls. He yanks Blaine's head back, staring into his eyes. Blaine can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he swallows hard._

"_Leave Jason alone," Blaine hisses. "Take me, but don't touch him." _

_In a split second, Blaine feels a white-hot pain go through his cheek, and he realizes that Andrew's just punched him._

"_Shut up," Andrew says through his teeth. "Don't talk to me, you filth." He spits in Blaine's face, and Blaine jerks away. _

_Andrew steps back, looking Blaine up and down and contemplating for a second._

"_Come here," he says, and his friend shoves Blaine forward. Andrew catches him by the hair, gripping it tightly. He shoves Blaine to his knees, shoving Blaine's face right in his crotch. "You want it, cocksucker?"_

_Blaine shakes his head, closing his eyes._

"_You don't?" Andrew asks, surprised. "Well, that's too bad. Suck it."_

_Blaine does nothing. He stays still, keeping his eyes shut firmly. _

"_I said suck it, faggot!"_

_Blaine lets out a whimper, and then Andrew lets out a hearty laugh, his friends laughing with him. He lets Blaine go, throwing him to the cement. _

"_I'm just messing with you," he says. "I don't want your disgusting mouth on my dick. I'd rather have it connecting with my fist." He moves fast, knuckles connecting square with Blaine's teeth. Instantly, Blaine tastes the copper tang of blood in his mouth, and he rolls over on the ground, spitting it out._

"_Hey, Marty," Andrew says. "You can go ahead and take Jason. You too, Brad. I want Blaine all to myself." _

_Marty begins kicking Jason hard in the head, and Blaine screams. He doesn't even know what he's screaming, because at the same time, Andrew kicks him in the ribs. Blaine reaches out, trying hard to scramble away, but Andrew won't let him have it. He comes fast with kicks and punches, sending sharp jabs of pain with every blow. Blaine can hear Andrew's cries for mercy, but there's nothing he can do. He can't even see. Everything is just black or red, and Blaine can feel himself slipping away._

_The last thing he can remember is Andrew gripping him by the collar and spitting in his face again before hissing in his ear, "Have fun in hell, queer."_

_._

_._

_It's the first time Blaine's ever seen his brother cry._

_When he comes back to consciousness, the first thing he notices is pain. He aches all over, body almost screaming in agony. He sucks in air through his teeth and forces his eyelids open, trying to push himself up, but a hand comes down on his chest, gently pushing him down._

"_Hey – take it easy, Blaine."_

_Things start to come into focus, and Blaine sees that Cooper's standing above him, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. _

"_Cooper?" he asks, surprised. "What's – what's going on?"_

"_What do you remember?" Cooper asks, heaving a sigh._

_Blaine thinks back, trying to recall. The last thing he remembers is blood, a lot of it. He remembers pain and shouting. He remembers Jason being kicked in the head, and struggling to reach him. He remembers Andrew laughing in his face and beating Blaine until he lost consciousness._

_Blaine looks around, suddenly realizing that he's in the hospital. There's an IV stuck in his hand and oxygen hooked up to his nose. Monitors are making noise all around him, and he's tucked into a very uncomfortable bed._

"_How long have I been out?" he asks, but the answer is not at all what he's expecting._

"_Three days," Cooper replies, voice quiet._

_Blaine blinks, not sure he's heard right._

"_Days?" he asks, and Cooper nods, pressing his lips together._

"_God, I thought – " Cooper starts, then breaks off. He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "I saw all that blood, and, Blaine, I – I thought – my mind just went to the worst place. I thought I was going to lose you." He chokes on the last few words, reaching a hand up to touch his mouth. Blaine can see the tears welling up in his eyes._

"_Cooper, I'm okay," Blaine croaks out, though he knows he's far from it._

_Cooper clears his throat, forcing a smile as he looks down at Blaine. He wipes absently at his eyes and asks, "How are you feeling? Do you need me to call a nurse to get you anything?"_

_Blaine thinks for a moment, trying to break through the haze of his brain. Right now, there's really only one thing he cares about. "Where's Jason?" he asks. "Is he okay?"_

_Cooper freezes, hesitating. _

_Immediately, Blaine's heart begins to pound. He's not sure he wants to know what happened, but he asks anyway. "Cooper, is he – what happened?"_

_Cooper swallows hard. "Blaine, he – " He pauses and sits down in the chair beside Blaine's bed, scooting forward so he's close to Blaine. "Do remember anything that happened after the dance?"_

"_Yeah," Blaine says, slowly. "Andrew and his friends got drunk and cornered me and Jason."_

"_Did you see any of what happened to him?" Cooper asks. "Do you remember?"_

_Blaine's heart feels like it's going to explode, thumping against the inside of his throat. _

"_His head," he says quietly. "They – they were kicking his head."_

_Cooper nods. "There – there was a lot of trauma, Blaine, and – and in the end, his brain couldn't handle it."_

_Blaine stares it him blankly for a second, his ears ringing. He's not sure he understands. He can still hear Jason's screams – if he was okay enough to scream, he – he can't be – _

"_Does – does he have brain damage, or - ?" Blaine asks, holding on to every last ounce of hope._

_Cooper shakes his head. "Blaine, I'm sorry."_

"_He's not – he's not dead, is he?" Blaine asks, and he chokes halfway through the sentence, a sob escaping his list._

_Cooper stands up and wraps his arms around Blaine, whispering, "I'm so, so sorry, Blaine. They – they tried everything, but it just – it wasn't enough."_

_Blaine only cries harder, pressing his face into Cooper's chest. It's just not fair. They'd come out of that dance feeling like they were on top of the world, and two seconds later, everything was shattered. Just because some drunk bullies didn't like their sexualities. Jason had been so young, he had his whole life ahead of him. He was going to go to off to college in two years – probably to Yale or Princeton. But because of who he loved, he was now going to be buried in the ground somewhere, his name only remembered on his gravestone._

_It's the first time Blaine's seen his brother cry, and it's the first time Blaine thinks about ending everything – but only so no one else will do it for him._

_._

_._

_Three weeks later, Blaine's moving into a dorm room at Dalton Academy Preparatory School for Boys. He's sharing a room with a guy named Nick Augustine – who seems really nice and helpful. Blaine's already been told that Dalton has a zero-tolerance no-bullying policy, but so far, the guys just generally seem supportive. It's a nice change, but Blaine knows it won't last forever._

_It doesn't take Blaine too long to settle in and feel comfortable. Aided by Nick, his friends Trent and Jeff, and two upperclassmen named Wes and David, Blaine forms a small group of people he feels safe with – though he's still having a lot of trouble dealing with the fact that Jason's gone. No one has an issue with Blaine being gay, and in fact, Blaine can't help but wonder if Nick and Jeff have something of their own going on. Eventually, Blaine learns that Jeff identifies as bisexual, though Nick doesn't really care to label himself._

_Two weeks after his transfer, Wes and David convince Blaine to audition for the Warblers, and of course, he makes it. The competition season is over since they lost at Regionals, but Wes assures Blaine that they sing other places as well – nursing homes, hospitals, and Dalton's spring concert._

_Blaine likes it at Dalton, he really does, but it doesn't feel the same. He's not alone; in fact, he's made some of the best friends he's ever had, but something feels off. Lately, Blaine's been engulfed on and off by a numb sort of sadness, and it's beginning to scare him. He's worried that soon it will be the only thing he'll remember how to feel, and he panics. That's how he ends up in the bathroom with a razor for the first time._

_Blaine closes the door tightly, hoping that Nick will stay out with Jeff for quite awhile so he can take all the time he needs. Blaine's scared to do this, but he needs to. He needs to feel something other than the overwhelming anxiety and sadness. _

_He steps up to the sink, holding out his left arm. He sets the razor up against his skin, and then slowly, drags it into his flesh. Blood begins to bead up, growing thicker as he stands there staring at it, heart beating fast. Eventually there's a crystal clear line of blood and Blaine fumbles to turn on the sink. He lets the cool water run over his wrist and sucks in air through his teeth when it stings. When he's done, he pulls the sleeve of his sweater down over the cut, glad that it covers it._

_Soon enough, this becomes a pattern that Blaine can't stop. When he feels that numbness, that sadness, that dull pain, he locks himself in the bathroom and destroys himself slit by slit._

_._

_._

_It's a week before summer starts, but Blaine can't even be excited. Finals are stressing him out and his arms constantly sting with the effort to heal all of his cuts. Nobody notices even though Blaine doesn't even try to cover it up anymore. Blaine's spiraling with no clear destination ahead._

_He's thought about talking to the guidance counselor, or even just broaching the subject carefully with one of his friends. He knows that a lot of kids like him come through here; surely, they've dealt with something like this before._

_But every time Blaine opens his mouth to say something, nothing comes out. He gets embarrassed or nervous and he can't do it. He's scared of judgment and people thinking he's crazy, and he's begun to wonder if maybe they'd all just be better off without him anyway. His friends like him, sure, but he doesn't contribute much to anything._

_And not to mention the thought of spending the summer at home. _

_His father's grown a lot colder since the transfer. He hardly talks to Blaine anymore, and when his mother talks, it's with a stiff and falsely sweet voice. Blaine's tried to talk to his father, tried to warm up to him. He'd asked his dad to go to a baseball game, or to some new action movie he doesn't even really want to see, but his father uses the same excuse every time. _

"I'm busy, Blaine. Maybe another time."

_So, heaving a sigh, Blaine will leave the room. Soon enough, it's like Blaine's invisible to his father, unless they're talking about him being a disappointment. Blaine remembers an argument about his grades slipping last month, and though Blaine knows it's because he spends more time in the bathroom or in bed these days, he'd told his dad that he was trying hard, give him some time to talk to his teachers and work extra credit options. He'd gotten his grades up, but it was a struggle._

_As the days drag on, and Blaine pushes through them, the more he begins to see how pointless everything is. School is too stressful, summer's going to be extremely uneventful. His friends really don't need him, and every time Blaine thinks about the more distant future, all he sees is just a big blank. He doesn't see a future for himself, and he's beginning to realize he doesn't even want one. _

_Life is just – it's too hard now. Blaine thinks about waking up, having to smile through the next day, having to avoid questions about the scars on his arm, having to try and please his parents, having to finish all of his schoolwork and get good marks. Adding college and a job and a love life on top of all that just sounds exhausting, and Blaine would rather just be gone before that time comes. It's not like anybody needs him anyway. In fact, the sooner he's gone, the better._

_._

_._

_It's the last day of school, and Blaine's done with his finals. Instead of going to lunch and meeting up with his friends, he goes back to his room. Everything's all packed up, sitting in boxes near the door, ready for Blaine to go home. But he doesn't want to._

_He goes over to his sheetless bed and collapses on top of it. He lays back, staring at the ceiling and trying to push back the sadness, but it doesn't work. Blaine watches as the ceiling fan twirls around and around, almost hypnotizing him._

_Lately, Blaine's been thinking about it, thinking about joining Jason. He's been thinking about taking a bottle of pills or jumping off a roof – all possibilities really, and the longer he stares at the fan, the more he thinks it might work. Blaine hops off his bed and hurries over to shut the fan off. As it slows, he rummages through his suitcase to find all of the Dalton ties he owns, tying them together. As the fan comes to a stop, Blaine hops back up onto his bed, loosening the tie around his neck_

_It'll be tight again soon enough._

_._

_._

_Blaine's come to hate hospitals. They bring with them too much disappointment and anxiety. This time around, Blaine's healing from bruising around his neck, a sore throat, and he's been put on suicide watch for the next seventy-two hours. _

_Blaine hates it. _

_He hates being looked at like he's insane. He hates being confined to his room. He hates being left there with only the nurses for company._

_His parents and his brother do come visit him, but it's less than satisfactory. It's just another punch to the gut, really. His dad says nothing, but Blaine can tell that he's not sympathetic in the least. If he hadn't been advised against it, he'd probably be screaming at Blaine and asking him why he's so stupid. His mother – she doesn't know what to do. She cries sometimes, or stares into space, but she never has anything to say to Blaine. _

_Cooper's the best out of them. He sits at Blaine's bedside day and night, getting him anything he needs and treating him like a normal person. But when Blaine's not looking, he knows that Cooper's completely fallen into shock. It makes Blaine feel guilty, because Cooper shouldn't be here. He should be out in Los Angeles living the amazing life he's been looking forward to. He doesn't need to worry about Blaine._

_He does go back, eventually. When Blaine's moved to the Mood Disorders Center, he heads back to L.A., promising he'll keep checking in to make sure Blaine's doing okay. Blaine doesn't even care, to be honest._

_The next three weeks are absolute hell. He's interrogated and inspected. They treat him like a fucking science project, jotting down notes and shoving pills down his throat that only make everything worse. And when Blaine gets out, nothing changes. He goes right back to where he started._

_._

_._

_Summer's bearable. Blaine spends it with Wes and David mostly, but the talk of college and applications makes Blaine stomach turn, because, once again, he's so incredibly unimportant. Nobody needs him._

_School hits Blaine like a bullet, and he didn't think he'd say it, but he'd rather have summer back. Having nothing on his plate is better than having too much. Sure more time gives him more bonding opportunities with his mind, but more responsibilities means more stress – which does not mix well with whatever the hell he's been feeling all of these months._

_Blaine handles everything fairly well until Christmas break. Cooper doesn't come back because apparently he's working on a new commercial, and he can't find the time._

_Two weeks later, Blaine stops going to Warblers' practice. _

_And over the next month, he stops hanging out with his friends._

_They ask him if he's okay, if he's having any issues, but Blaine tells them he just really wants to focus on his grades. He doesn't want to slip like he did at the end of last year, but whether he's talking about grades or the suicide attempt, nobody knows for sure. Blaine's friends are more careful around him now, and while Blaine can appreciate it, it's also incredibly annoying. He doesn't need pity, he needs help._

_As winter turns into spring, Blaine feels a repeat coming on. Cutting doesn't give him any satisfaction, and there's no way to ease the pain. He just can't do it anymore. He can't deal with the looks people give him, like he'll break any second. He can't deal with being ignored by his brother and his father. He can't deal with his mother's jumpy attitude around him, trying to be nice but coming off completely fake. Blaine knows she doesn't care anymore than anyone else, and he can't stand it._

_Blaine's not going to fuck around this time. He's going to make sure he succeeds, so he plans it carefully. Nick's going out with Jeff tonight, and they'll probably end up back in Jeff's dorm, so that gives Blaine plenty of time. _

_When Nick wishes him goodbye, Blaine smiles, saying goodbye in return. As soon as the door clicks shut, Blaine grabs the bottle of pills from his desk drawer and heads into the bathroom, pacing around for a little while before stopping and drawing up the courage. He pours half of the bottle into his hand, and then taking a deep breath, throws his head back._

_._

_._

It's now the fourth time Blaine wakes up in the hospital with his memory fuzzy, and he almost wants to laugh. Once again, he's obviously failed to kill himself. He lets out a groan, squinting at the bright light of the room.

"Blaine?"

He freezes, heart kicking into high gear. He knows that voice, but it doesn't make any sense. What is he doing here? Why does he even care?

Blaine tries to push himself up, but gives up after a second and turns onto his side. Slowly, his eyes adjust, and he can just barely make out Kurt standing over him.

"Kurt," he croaks out, sounding thoroughly surprised.

"Oh, God – you're awake," Kurt breathes. "Thank God, thank God – I don't – I don't know what I would have done."

"What are you doing here?" Blaine asks, because, honestly, he doubts that Kurt really cares.

Kurt opens his mouth, but nothing coherent comes out. He stumbles over his words as his eyes start to well up with tears.

"Puck," he says at last. "He – he called me and told me what happened, and Blaine, I – God, I'm so sorry."

Blaine wishes he could move, could at least clear out his ears because he's sure he's heard wrong. Kurt had left him, right? Blaine wasn't imagining that? That's just what happens. No matter who they are, everyone in Blaine's life always ends up leaving. It's not a common thing for anyone to come back like this.

"I – I was stupid, Blaine," Kurt says, shaking his head. "I've been so wrapped up in my grief, I didn't even think about your feelings. And you were absolutely right, Blaine. You won't be able to move on like I will. At least, not easily, and I'm sorry I didn't recognize that. I'm sorry I was so inconsiderate. I'm sorry I blew you off like that. I'm sorry I didn't believe you were being honest, and just – I'm sorry for even thinking about cutting things off in the first place. Blaine, if I – "

"Kurt," Blaine says, closing his eyes.

He can't listen any further. Guilt is starting to creep its way into him, and he hates the feeling of it. He's begun to feel so selfish, so uncaring and cold. And that's not who he is; that's not who he wants to be. Looking at Kurt's eyes, looking at how wide they are and how they're filled to the brim with pain – it makes him feel awful. Listening to Kurt's apology, Blaine realizes that he'd done almost the same thing. He'd been too worried about his own depression that he hadn't even thought about Kurt's grief.

"Kurt," Blaine says quietly. "I forgive you, okay? But only if you forgive me."

Kurt's eyebrows crease together, and he looks confused. "Why? Blaine, you didn't do anyth – "

"But I did," Blaine says, and he chokes on his words. "I always do, Kurt. Because I'm the biggest fuckup in the history of the universe, and I'm sorry, okay? _ I_ was inconsiderate. _ I_ was being stupid, and just – the whole reason this happened was because I didn't want to be without you in my life, and there I went, pushing you away and then blaming it all on you. I was dumb, and I'm sorry."

Kurt shakes his head, taking a step forward so that he's right up next to Blaine's bed. "It wasn't dumb at all, Blaine. You must have been feeling bad. I – I can't really blame you, in your situation and in your condition, for feeling like you needed that escape. Just – just don't try it again, okay? Promise me that."

Blaine hesitates. "Kurt, I – "

"Okay, okay," Kurt says. "Then promise me that we'll go back to the way we were. When were helping each other cope and you were making progress and getting better. Let me do that for you again."

Blaine hesitates again, and Kurt sighs, frustrated.

"What?"

"Can we go a little further?" Blaine asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kurt blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Can we go back to that day out in the courtyard?" Blaine asks, holding his breath as he watches Kurt's reaction.

"Oh," Kurt says, understanding, and he smiles. "You want – you want to try to be, like . . . boyfriends?"

"More than anything," Blaine answers honestly. "But listen – Kurt, I'm not stable. I'm not in my right mind, and I can't guarantee I'm always going to be completely okay. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do," Kurt replies, nearly scoffing. "What do you think that last speech was all about?"

Blaine smiles weakly. "Then it's a deal."

Kurt leans down then, pulling Blaine into a surprise kiss. Blaine kisses back, and he almost feels a little better. He's not okay, not in the slightest, but it's a start.


	12. Chapter 11

[ eleven. ]

* * *

><p>Blaine ends up staying in the hospital for another six weeks, and, thankfully, it doesn't take that long for him to begin to feel that sense of hope again. He talks both to Emma and Marianne about why he attempted suicide again, and, as he talks about Cooper and Kurt and his annoyance with his parents, everything slowly becomes a little clearer.<p>

The issues with Kurt are the easiest to work out because they no longer exist. It's a little difficult to maintain a romantic relationship with Blaine in the hospital, but Kurt assures Blaine that's okay, that he understands and Blaine shouldn't worry about it. And it really isn't so bad because Kurt, Carole, and Finn come see him on visiting day each week.

Eventually, he works out everything about Cooper. He tells Marianne about how much Cooper aids to him feeling worthless. He tells Marianne about his jealousy surrounding Cooper's success and the feeling of abandonment that taints their relationship. Two weeks into his new stay, Cooper calls Blaine to tell him all about Scotland. Cooper doesn't know about Blaine's latest suicide attempt, and Blaine doesn't tell him. Even so, Cooper does get a little emotional. He tells Blaine that he can't wait to come home and see him, that he misses Blaine so much, and that when he does get back, they're going to spend a whole weekend together doing whatever Blaine wants. Blaine smiles as he tells Cooper he loves him, and he feels his fears of being unimportant slipping away.

There is one day, when Blaine's talking about his past, that Jason slips out, and then he's crying softly, recalling the growth of their friendship, the dance, and, ultimately, his death. Blaine talks to Marianne about how he thought he was in love with Jason at the time, but, after falling in love with Kurt, he doesn't think that was the case. But he still feels terrible about what happened, and Marianne assures him it's only normal – that because of everything that happened following the attack, Blaine never got proper closure. He tells her that Cooper took him to visit Jason's grave, but Marianne still insists that by keeping everything inside and never addressing how he felt about Jason and his death, Blaine never got the chance to heal from it. But by the time he's done talking to Marianne, he feels better. He finally feels like he can move on from it and not be held down by the lingering grief.

The weeks drag on, but Blaine does heal. Soon enough, all of his problems begin to seem smaller. He begins to deal with them a little easier, and it doesn't feel like they're dragging him down as much. He can rise above them now. He can fight the sadness and the anxiety and focus on the things that make him happy. He hasn't been able to do that in a long time, and it feels amazing.

Now, the only the thing that's still contributing a great deal to his depression is his parents. It's week five, and they still haven't visited him. Blaine's spent nearly three months in the hospital, and the only time they visited him was when he was recovering from blood loss in the ICU.

Blaine brings this up to Marianne, and she freezes, expression going thoughtful.

"What?" Blaine asks, feeling a little self-conscious.

"Blaine," Marianne says slowly. "How would you feel about having your parents come for a therapy session."

Blaine eyes go wide, and he shakes his head. "No," he says sternly. "No, I can't – I wouldn't be able to do that."

Marianne lets out a small sigh, setting her clipboard down. "Blaine, usually it is customary for after a period of time, once a patient is stable, to bring their family along with them – just to get everything out there and so everyone can learn and heal together."

"Well, I'm – I'm not stable," Blaine says. "I'm sorry, it's just – I'm not ready for that."

"You might think so," Marianne says, "but I disagree."

Blaine opens his mouth to argue, but Marianne cuts him off.

"Blaine, five weeks ago you tried to kill yourself, now you're walking around here with a smile on your face and an eagerness to go home and get out in the world. You can do this. And I'll be here the whole time. This will be good for everyone, I promise."

Blaine sighs heavily and bites his lip. "Okay," he says quietly. "I'll do it."

.

.

Three days later, Blaine's sitting in the exact same spot, his parents on the couch adjacent to him. He sits with his hands folded together and his head down. His stomach is crawling with nerves, but then Marianne whispers his name and he looks up to see her smiling at him. He breathes a sigh, calming himself.

"So," Marianne says. "Shall we begin?"

No one answers her.

"Alright. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, I would first like to know how you've been affected by what's been going on with Blaine. What ran through your mind those three times you heard he had tried to kill himself?"

Blaine's mother speaks up, and it looks like his father isn't even paying attention. He looks down at the floor and rubs his forearm, heaving a sigh.

"Well, we were devastated, of course," she says. "The first time sent us into a shock. We had no idea that he'd been feeling any of that. He only came home every other weekend, so we didn't see him much. The second time was a little bit harder because we thought the hospital stay and anti-depressants had helped, but then we found out he'd stopped taking his medication. And the third – I don't even know what to say. I just want Blaine to be a normal, happy teenager."

Marianne nods, her eyes on Blaine's father. "Do you talk to Blaine about his depression? Do you check on him and try to help him?"

"We try," Blaine's mother answers, "but we never know how to help him. We're afraid we might do something wrong, that we might simply upset him more."

Marianne nods again, pressing her lips together.

"Have you ever thought about what might be a cause of Blaine's depression?"

Blaine's mother thinks for a second. "Well, we assume it might be things at school. I know a few years back, Blaine dealt with some pretty awful bullying. Homework can be stressful, and Blaine did used to be very involved – with soccer, theater, and glee club."

"Did you ever think that maybe some of his problems come from home?" Marianne asks, and Blaine tenses up slightly. He'd been waiting for this moment, waiting for Marianne to start calling out his parents on the things that they've done.

His mother blinks, looking surprised. "Well, we've – I mean, we haven't always – "

"Clara – may I call you that?"

She nods.

"Clara, I want you to stop answering for your husband," Marianne says. "You love Blaine, don't you? You care about him a great deal?"

Clara nods, her mouth wavering a little as she attempts to smile. Blaine can see that her eyes are already welling with tears.

"But you just don't know how to help, correct?"

Clara nods again.

"Do you also think that maybe, if there are problems at home, that you ignore them? That you don't acknowledge them?"

Clara looks down, twisting her fingers together. Just barely, she nods.

"Alan," Marianne says, looking to Blaine's father. "What do you think about all of this?"

"What do you mean – specifically?" Alan asks, voice quiet.

"What do you think about Blaine feeling so bad that he attempted to take his own life?"

Alan hesitates. "I'm – I'm not sure."

A lump rises in Blaine's throat, and he swallows hard. This is the part he was afraid of. He was afraid of the truth finally coming out and his father being forced to admit outright that he doesn't give a shit about his own son.

"Is it because it's difficult for you to deal with, or is it because maybe you're a cause?" Marianne asks. "Or maybe a little bit of both?"

Alan says nothing, and Marianne nods to herself, triumphant.

"Alan, what do you think about your son's sexuality?"

Alan sighs heavily, looking up at least. He opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head and looks down again.

Blaine looks off to the side, away from everyone and blinks fast, trying to stop the sudden flow of tears. He's known how his father's felt for a long time, but seeing him basically admit it – it hurts a lot.

Marianne sets her clipboard off to the side.

"Alan, I want you to look at me," she says, and Blaine's a little surprised at how serious she sounds. Alan looks up, and Marianne dares to continue. "I don't care how you feel about Blaine's sexuality, in all honesty. I don't care if you think it's disgusting. I don't care if you're indifferent. I don't care if you're struggling to accept it, or whatever, but you _cannot _let that come in the way of Blaine's healing process. Blaine _needs_ support right now. He needs people to take care of him and make him feel like he's worth something, because he is. That boy over there, Alan – that boy is your son, and for the past three years he's felt so low of himself that he's wanted to die. Do you wish that for him, Alan? Is that something you want for your son?"

Alan shakes his head. "No," he says quietly. "I don't."

"Then put your prejudice and ignorance aside and help him," Marianne says. "Because if you don't suck it up and become the father figure he needs, Blaine is not going to heal. He might reach a point where he feels okay, but he's always going to have that weight on his shoulders that is the lack of your support and acceptance. If you want to stay a part of Blaine's life, you're going to have to do this. If you can't get past whatever it is that's holding you back from being a real father to Blaine, then you can't be in his life. You can't subject him to that, Alan. Your behavior is fuel to his depression and poison to his self-esteem."

Marianne pauses, and there's a ringing silence.

"Do you think you could do that, Alan?" she asks quietly. "Do you think you could put everything aside and be there for your son?"

It takes Alan a long moment to answer, but eventually, he lifts his head and nods. "I can," he says. "I will."

Marianne sits back, and shoots a pleased look at Blaine. "Good." She pulls her clipboard back onto her lap and looks towards Clara. "I don't doubt that you care about your son, I really don't, but condoning your husband's behavior is just not acceptable, do you understand?"

Clara nods. "I – I know I haven't been the best about that – " she looks to her son, " - and, Blaine, I'm so sorry. I just – I want you to know that I love you. You and your brother are my absolute pride and joy, and all I want is for you to be happy in life."

Blaine offers a small smile, not trusting himself to speak. He's always thought of his mother as so distant. She may have cried about his depression over and over, but Blaine's never really felt like she's tried to connect with him. She doesn't try to help him – at least not enough, but Blaine's beginning to understand that he can't blame her if she never really knew how.

Marianne turns to him now. "Blaine, I want you to be honest with me now. Your parents – the way they've treated you – do you think that any of it at all has effect on your depression?"

Blaine nods, swallowing hard.

"Like what?" Marianne asks, and she gives a small nod as if to say "Keep your eyes on me."

"Well, mostly it's my dad," Blaine starts carefully. "I just – I feel very inadequate. I feel like I'm always letting him down, and I hate it. It – it really does make me feel worthless."

"Why do you feel that way, Blaine?"

"I don't – I don't really think he approves of my sexuality," Blaine says quietly. "I feel like he's against it, and – and like he doesn't want to have a gay son. I mean, as long as he's got Cooper, I'm not really important, right?"

Marianne nods, pressing her lips together. She lets a silent beat pass by before looking back to Alan.

"They way Blaine describes it – is that how you feel, Alan?" she asks. "Does Blaine let you down constantly? Would you rather not consider him your son?"

"No," Alan says without missing a beat. "I don't – he_ is _my son. And he does make me proud."

"Do you let him know that?" Marianne asks.

"I don't – maybe not enough," Alan answers.

"Do you not approve of his sexuality?"

"Not – not entirely," Alan says slowly. "It's – it's a process. I was raised a certain way, and – and I just – it's hard, but I'm trying."

"But maybe not a quick enough pace," Marianne says. "Maybe Blaine doesn't know that."

Alan nods, licking his lips.

"Alan, is there anything you want to say to your son?"

Blaine finally dares to look over at him. His heart is racing in his chest and he's finding it hard to breathe. Hearing his father saying these things, hearing him be completely honest – it's good, but it's not the answers he's exactly looking for. He's just glad they're making progress, and maybe there's hope for the future.

Alan lets out a noise between a humorless laugh and a scoff. "Blaine, I – I know I'm not the best father. I know I've shown Cooper more acceptance and probably more love. I just – I don't know what to do, Blaine. You know, I was raised a Christian, and – and I honestly – I never expected to have to deal with something like this. And then there's the depression, the suicide attempts on top of this, and it's been pushing us further away from each other." He sighs, hanging his head. "Blaine, I don't want you to have to feel like this. I agree with your mom – I want you to be happy. Son, you aren't letting me down, you have to know that. I just – I'm going to need time to deal with these things. I've got to learn to let go of past beliefs, I've got to learn about depression and what you need, I've got to learn how to help you in the best ways that I can – it's a lot for me, Blaine, and I know you're probably thinking that you deserve more than what I'm giving you, and you do, but I'm working on it, son. I promise you."

Blaine nods, blinking fast. His breath is shaky as he tries to take everything in. All he's ever gotten from his father was radiating disappointment, and now that it's turned out that maybe that isn't the case – it's difficult for Blaine to wrap his head around. He forces out a small smile, and chokes a little as he says, "Um – thanks – thank you, Dad. I . . . appreciate it."

Alan gives a small nod back, twitching his lips just briefly into an awkward grin.

"Alright," Marianne says, looking between all of them. "I think we're about done here. If you two would just allow me a moment alone with Blaine."

Alan and Clara stand up and thank her before exiting the room.

The door to Marianne's office shuts with a small thud, and Blaine turns back to her. He's on the verge of tears, his breathing becoming more and more rapid as he tries to take in what's just happened. He knows his father will have words to say with him later, but right now he just wants to thank Marianne for sticking up for him, since he's never been able to do it himself.

Marianne stares at him for just a moment before coming over and wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tight. He buries his face in her shoulder, trying to calm himself. They sit still for a few minutes, Blaine trying to work through everything that's swirling around in his mind.

As Blaine finally pulls away, Marianne looks at him carefully. "Are you okay, Blaine?"

He nods, sniffling, and then wipes his eyes and nose on his sleeve. "I just – I'm a little overwhelmed, that's all."

"About what?"

Blaine shrugs. "Everything. I just – for so long I've felt like such a disappointment to my parents, but knowing that at least my mom doesn't feel that way, it's just – it's such a relief. I wish my dad would be a little easier to deal with, but – "

"Give your dad time, Blaine," Marianne says, rubbing her hand along his forearm. "He's not a malicious man, I can see that. To me, it just seems he has difficulties with adjusting. And you know it doesn't help when an older sibling sets expectations for you to follow. You and your father will work through this together, and if you ever want to bring him back, just let me know, okay?"

Blaine nods, sniffling again. "Thank you, Marianne," he says quietly. "What you did today, I – I feel like it's going to help me a lot."

Marianne smiles. "It's what I'm here for, Blaine."

.

.

Blaine's six-week term comes to an end on the next visiting day. Kurt, Carole, and Finn show up to take him out for lunch, since he was technically let off the hook right after breakfast – however, his parents are picking him up around four.

Blaine's sitting in the lobby when Kurt and his family show up, and Blaine practically leaps out of his seat. He hurries over to them, throwing himself into Kurt's arms and hugging him tightly.

"Hey," Kurt says brightly as Blaine pulls back. He reaches out and grips Blaine's upper arms, smiling. "You're going home today."

Blaine nods, smiling widely in return. "I know. We won't have to get by on seeing each other just once a week anymore."

Kurt shakes his head. "I suppose, but I'm really proud of you, Blaine." He reaches down, fixing the collar of Blaine's shirt. "You've come so far, and I'm really happy for you."

Blaine looks down, trying to hide his blush. "Thank you," he says quietly.

Kurt takes Blaine's hand, entwining their fingers together. "Alright, I'm sorry – enough of the sappiness. Should we get going?"

"Please," Blaine says, looking back up. "I haven't had anything proper to eat in six weeks."

Kurt laughs as they walk out to the car. It's a sunny day, the temperature absolutely perfect. Blaine looks up at the cloudless sky, his ears filling with the sound of chirping birds and the traffic that moves through the streets. It's a beautiful day, and Blaine can see it.

They end up eating at some kind of bar and grill, getting a booth right next to the window so Blaine can look out and admire the life outside – people walking past the window, cyclists weaving between them and the cars on the street. Couples walking by with their arms around each other and children holding tightly to their parents.

After awhile, Blaine turns his attention to inside the restaurant. He looks around, taking in all of the people talking and laughing, looking happy and alive. It feels good to finally be one of them.

Kurt gives his hand a squeeze under the table. "What are you thinking about?" he asks.

Blaine shrugs. "I'm just happy," he answers honestly. "I mean sure, I'm not one hundred percent yet. These anti-depressants are kicking my ass with the list of side-effects, but it's just nice to feel a lot better than I have in the past three years."

Kurt takes his hand from Blaine's and rubs his leg, smiling. "Once again, I'm really happy for you." He leans in, brushing a kiss on Blaine's lips.

"Hey, hey – with the PDA, come on," Finn cuts in, pointing a hand at them.

"We're in Cincinnati," Kurt replies. "Let me enjoy it."

Carole laughs, shaking her head. As Kurt pulls away, she asks, "So, Blaine – how do you feel about going home?"

"Relieved," he says, reaching for his water. "It's been nearly three months. I'm so ready to go home." He takes a sip as he listens to Carole's reply.

"Are you still planning on going back to school?"

Blaine sets his glass back down, clearing his throat. "Actually, I'm not sure. I'm still not completely caught up, and I mean – I've only got three weeks left. It would kind of be pointless to go back. I think my parents are just planning on getting my assignments and homeschooling me at a more comfortable pace."

Carole nods. "That's understandable."

"Yeah," Blaine says. "The school's being really generous about it. Either pity or sympathy, I can't tell. Either way, I really appreciate it. Trying to jump right back into everything would probably be disastrous. I mean it's going to take me another month to adjust to the anti-depressants alone."

"How are they working for you?" Carole asks. "Do you think you've found the right ones?"

Blaine nods. "Oh, yeah. They're working great," he assures. "It's just the side-effects are insane."

"Like what?" Carole asks, raising an eyebrow.

Blaine thinks for a moment. "I mean – it depends on the day, really. Today, I'm feeling fine, thank God. But I've had two panic attacks since I started taking them, which are the worst part of it. Mostly I'm either exhausted, nauseous, or both. My nurse told me that hopefully, everything will mellow out within the next few weeks."

"Well, that's good," Carole says. "I mean, at least they're working."

Blaine nods, licking his lips. He looks outside again, squinting against the sunlight. "Other than the side effects, they're working great."

.

.

They arrive back at the hospital at around three-forty-five, which gives Blaine just enough time to get his things together and head back downstairs to meet his parents in the lobby. Kurt, Carole, and Finn stick around to see Blaine off. As they wait for Blaine's parents, he holds onto Kurt's hand tightly, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

Finally, the doors open and the Andersons come through, Cooper tagging along behind them. Blaine feels his heart leap and he stands, making his way over to them. Cooper gets to him first, wrapping his arms around his brother and holding him tight.

"Cooper, you're home," Blaine says excitedly as he pulls away.

"And you're still in here," Cooper says, giving him a scolding look. "Mom and Dad had to fill me in."

Blaine smiles sheepishly. "I'm sorry?"

Cooper rolls his eyes. "Just as long as you're getting better, and you promise me you won't ever try to kill yourself again. Or you at least be honest with me, and warn me if you're going to pull something like that again."

"I won't attempt it anymore," Blaine assures. "I think three times is enough."

Cooper nods, pressing his lips together. "Well, I certainly hope so." He gives Blaine a pat on the shoulder and steps back, allowing their parents to see him.

Blaine swallows hard, looking up first at his mother, and then his father.

"You all ready?" Alan asks, and Blaine nods.

"Good," Clara says, smiling sweetly. "We've got everything ready for at home, sweetie. I went down to Dalton yesterday and brought all of your things home. I've also got manicotti ready to cook – your favorite."

Blaine smiles, laughing slightly. His cheeks feel warm, and he knows he's blushing. "Thanks, Mom," he says, sharing a look with Cooper. He watches as Cooper glances over his head, looking intently at something and then grinning. He turns around and remembers that, duh, Kurt is there.

"Oh, um – Mom, Dad," he says, taking a deep breath. "I want to introduce you to somebody."

He turns and walks nervously over to Kurt. He knows that maybe this isn't the best idea, maybe it's still a little too much for his father, but he doesn't want to hide their relationship, not when it's the thing that's really kept Blaine going.

Blaine smiles as he steps up to Kurt. He reaches down, grabbing Kurt's hand.

"Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend – Kurt. He's – he's helped me through a lot of this, and I think it's really because of him that I've made so much progress." Blaine holds his breath as he watches his parents' reactions. His mother smiles and claps her hands together. His father's face stays blank but he nods, acknowledging Kurt.

"It's – uh – it's good to meet you, Kurt," Alan says.

"Thank you so much for being there for our son," Clara says, and she takes Kurt's hand, shaking it vigorously.

Kurt smiles at them both. "It's good to meet you both, and, really, Mrs. Anderson, it's nothing. Blaine's – Blaine's really great." He looks over, grinning at Blaine, his expression brimming with pride.

"Well," Alan says. "We should get going, Blaine. Your mother's been worked up over the manicotti all day. We'll – we'll see you later, Kurt."

Alan walks away awkwardly, Clara following after him. Cooper breathes a sigh and moves over to Blaine, shaking his head.

"That was tense," he remarks.

Blaine laughs slightly before turning to Kurt. "I'll text you, okay?" he says, and Kurt nods. Blaine jogs over to Cooper, taking a deep breath. "God, I was scared he was going to explode. He took it a lot better than I expected."

"He almost seemed happy for you," Cooper says. "In his weird, apathetic way."

Blaine laughs again. "Well, I guess I'll take it."

.

.

After dinner, Blaine is completely exhausted. He can feel the side-effects of the anti-depressants kicking in. The nausea isn't too bad, but his body is achy, and he his eyelids are extremely heavy. He lies down on the couch while his parents and brother clean up the kitchen, trying desperately to stay awake. He doesn't realize he's dozed off until he feels his mother's fingers in his hair.

"You feeling okay, sweetheart?" she asks.

Blaine grumbles something incoherent in response.

"Run that by me again?"

"It's the anti-depressants," Blaine says, yawning. "Side-effects."

"What's wrong?" Clara asks, sitting down on the arm of the couch.

Blaine sighs. "I'm tired, mostly. I kind of feel like I'm getting over a stomach flu."

"Is there anything I can do?" Clara asks

"No," Blaine says. "Well, not besides letting me sleep."

"Well, at least go up to your bed," Clara says, standing up and holding out her hand. "I'm sure it'll feel nice after all those nights in the hospital bed."

Blaine lets her help him up without hesitation. He sways a little once he's on his feet, but his mother catches him. Slowly, they tackle the steps, making their way up to Blaine's bedroom, where he collapses onto his bed.

"We'll try to keep it down," Clara promises, walking over to him. She leans down and places a gentle kiss to Blaine's forehead. "Let me know if I can get you anything, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine says weakly.

"I love you, sweetheart, goodnight."

"Love you too, Mom."

"And, Blaine?"

He opens his eyes, seeing that she's standing in the doorway, ready to turn out the light.

"Yeah?"

"We're really happy for you and Kurt," she says, " – your father and I. And I'm not just speaking for him this time. I know he is. Kurt's really good for you."

Blaine smiles. "Thanks."

"Of course," Clara replies. "Sleep tight, Blainey."

"Night, Mom."

He rolls over onto his side as she shuts out the lights and closes the door. If he were to be honest, coming home had made him a little apprehensive, but now that he is, he's so glad he's not in the hospital anymore. It really feels like he's woken up for the first time since freshman year. And as he listens to the murmurs of his parents and his brother downstairs, he finally feels like he's got a place among them.


	13. Chapter 12

[ twelve. ]

* * *

><p>Adjusting back to normal life is strange, but Blaine starts slow.<p>

The first few days, he lounges around, attempting to do some homework and maybe a few chores. His father stays home from work – which is odd considering he used to spend every waking moment there. His mother doesn't have that luxury, but she's always helpful when she's not at work. Cooper doesn't do anything different. He makes himself right at home, almost like he never left. He goes right back to eating all the food in the pantry and fighting over the remote with Blaine.

Blaine doesn't go out much, and he's been restricted from seeing Kurt – not because his parents aren't supportive, but because they want to keep an eye on as well as spend time with him. Plus, he really does need to focus on the heavy pile of schoolwork. Hopefully, he'll have everything finished by July and enjoy a two-month vacation before starting back up at Dalton in September.

It's odd to have so much freedom, to not have a strict schedule and certain boundaries anymore, but it's not bad. Blaine really enjoys being able to get out of the house and just walk around in the practically summer weather. He likes going out with Cooper to get something to eat or go shopping or do whatever. He just likes feeling almost normal again.

Being tied up at home or to someone in his family has its drawbacks, however, and one of them is the fact that Blaine doesn't see his friends until the last day of school. With Cooper in the passenger seat, he drags himself all the way to Dalton by lunch time. He gets a visitor's pass in the front office, where the receptionist gives him a warm welcome, and he and Cooper head to the cafeteria.

Dressed not in his uniform, but a pair of tan shorts and red polo, he stands out. Heads turn as he walks through the tables. Whispers follow him as he goes, but he ignores them, focusing on his friends, urging them to be the ones to look next. At last, they follow suit with everyone and turn towards Blaine, mouths falling open and eyes going wide. Blaine smiles without even noticing and picks up the pace to reach them.

Suddenly, Blaine becomes the center of a huge group hug, everyone talking to him at once. His smile is practically splitting his face, his heart ready to explode out of his chest. It takes minutes before Blaine is standing by himself again, no one hugging him or clapping him on the back or slapping his upper am. He's finally left standing and staring at his friends, wrapping his hands together and grinning wide.

"So," he says. "How have you guys been?"

"Us?" David asks incredibly. "Blaine, what about you – we haven't seen in you in what – three months?"

Blaine shrugs. "I'm good. Really good, actually."

"So it worked this time?" Nick asks hesitantly. "I don't have to walk in on any more scares?"

Blaine feels a rush of guilt, but he shakes it off. "No more scares, I promise. I'm – I'm sorry about that, Nick."

Nick holds up a hand, shaking his head. "Just as long as you're better now."

"Well, I am," Blaine says, nodding. "I'm a _lot_ better now."

He looks around, watching as his friends slowly grin, feeling a warmth grow in his chest as a mix of emotions overcome them – relief, happiness, pride. It only intensifies the satisfaction he's felt since coming home.

"So, are you – what are you doing about school?" Wes asks, breaking the silence.

"Homeschooling," Blaine replies. "I'm finishing up the year at my own pace, but I'll be back in the dorms next year."

"Well, that's – that's great," Wes says, smiling. "We've missed you, Blaine. We've missed you a lot."

"I've missed you guys too," Blaine says, almost laughing.

"You'll be back in the Warblers, right?" Trent asks, looking thoroughly anxious about it, and Blaine laughs.

"Of course," Blaine says. "I wouldn't dream of quitting now."

Trent looks relieved, and Blaine continues to smile as he looks around the room.

"Well," Jeff says. "We've still got a half hour for lunch. Care to join us?"

Blaine nods. "I'd love to."

They all sit down, and Blaine calls Cooper over to join them.

As his friends eat, Blaine is bombarded with questions. Everyone's careful not to pry and not to say the wrong thing, but Blaine doesn't mind. Talking about things is easier now that Blaine has stability in a bottle. Most of the things Blaine answers anyway are about how he's doing now: how are the anti-depressants? How's he doing with homeschooling? How often does he have to go back to the hospital?

Soon enough, the tables turn, and Blaine's the one asking questions, and everyone fills him in on what's been going on at Dalton. Apparently, the spring concert went spectacularly well. There was also a rumor flying around that their history teacher, Mr. Phillips was fooling around with the young, new librarian on campus – which was confirmed when Jeff found them in the janitor's closet.

Sitting with his friends at the lunch table, telling stories and laughing at jokes – it only adds to the growing feeling that Blaine's almost normal again. Yes, he has to take medication; yes, he has to see a therapist once every two weeks; yes, some days are really awful, but today feels great, and finally, Blaine feels like a regular teenager.

Eventually, however, the bell does have to ring, and while Blaine's friends go off to finish their last two finals, he and Cooper go and get some real lunch and hang around downtown – only to come back later with Blaine's friends.

Dalton is in high summer spirits when Blaine and Cooper return. The guys shed their blazers and ties and pile into their cars, following after Blaine and Cooper. They walk downtown, discovering and looking through all the little shops they've never seen before. In one of the quirkier shops, Blaine finds a bowtie with a map pattern on it. Cooper buys it for him, along with a new pair of aviators.

At the end of the day, they wind up in an old ice cream parlor, sitting around on the barstools and talking. There's a dozen conversations going on at once, and during a moment that Blaine's simply observing, Nick nudges him.

"Hey," he says quietly. "I just – I wanted to ask – I mean – are you really okay?"

Blaine lets out a small laugh. He hangs his head, smiling.

"I'm serious," Nick says defensively.

"No, no – I know you are," Blaine says, looking back up at him. "It's just – yeah. I am okay. Honestly, Nick. I've been doing really, really well, actually."

Nick nods, not meeting his eyes. "I'm glad, Blaine. To – to be honest, I've been really worried about you. I know I've got Jeff, and I spend a lot more time with him, but you're one of my best friends, Blaine, and I don't think I'd ever get over it if you actually killed yourself."

Blaine presses his lips together, swallowing hard. "Nick, I'm sorry," he says.

"No, it – " Nick starts, but Blaine cuts him off.

"You've probably had the most trouble dealing this," Blaine continues. "I mean, hell – you found me lifeless twice."

"Not completely," Nick says, snorting humorlessly.

"Well, close enough," Blaine says, "and I'm honestly really sorry about it. The more I think about, the more I realize how much I put you guys through – making you worry like that. It's kind of selfish, really."

"No, it's not," Nick argues. "You can't control the fact that you felt that way, Blaine. Honestly, it's not your fault. I know depression is a really difficult disease to deal with. My sister has it, you know. I mean – she never tried to commit suicide, but she cut herself, and we could all see how miserable she was. Looking back, we should have tried to help her a lot sooner; we could've saved her a few scars. But she got better, and I'm really glad you are, too, Blaine."

Blaine smiles shyly. "I am, too. And though I'm sorry it happened in the first place, I'm glad you always got to me in time, Nick. Because now, I really don't want to die. I want to get back into things. I just – now that I've been given my what – fourth chance? – I want to make the most of it."

"It's good to hear that," Nick replies with a grin. "You know, I kind of want to keep you around, Blaine. You're not half bad."

Blaine laughs, digging back into his small cup of ice cream. Nick shakes his head, doing the same.

All in all, it's great to be back with his friends, and Blaine's really grateful that they've been there for him. Even if they don't understand exactly what he's going through, they're trying, and that's what matters. Blaine wouldn't be anywhere without them.

.

.

A little under three weeks after Blaine comes home, Kurt knocks on the Anderson's door. Blaine's in the kitchen working on schoolwork, and he cranes his head to look through the doorway, watching as Cooper answers the knock. Blaine recognizes his voice before he sees him, and he springs out of seat, hurrying to the front door. He crashes behind Cooper, a huge smile on his face.

"Geez, what the he – "

"Sorry," Blaine says, a little breathless, turning to Kurt. "I'm just really happy to see you."

Kurt laughs. "Well, it _has_ been three weeks."

"Yeah, sorry about my parents," Blaine says sheepishly.

Kurt waves it off. "I completely understand. I'd want to keep an eye on you, too, but since I can't . . . I'm glad they're doing it for me."

Cooper looks between them, then turns away. "I'll leave you guys alone."

Blaine watches Cooper leave, and then steps forward, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist, careful of the bag resting against Kurt's thigh as he kisses him softly. When he tries to pull away, Kurt lingers for just a second longer, eyes closed and breath heavy.

"I really missed you," he says, voice almost a whisper, and he straightens up, keeping his hands on Blaine's shoulders. "I mean, I know we've been texting, and I know you're taking your medication, but I can't help but get nervous and worry and , Blaine, I just – "

"Kurt," Blaine interrupts him. "I'm fine."

Kurt visibly relaxes, smiling a little lopsidedly. "I know, but I – I worry." He heaves a sigh. "Well, anyway, I was just wondering if you wanted to go with me somewhere. I've already talked to your parents, and they're alright with it."

"Yeah, sure, of course," Blaine sighs. "Um – where?"

Kurt swallows hard, pressing his lips together. "My father's grave."

Blaine feels an odd rush of sadness, guilt, and dull eagerness. "Um – yeah," he says. "I'd love to – well, I mean – " He sighs.

"I know what you mean," Kurt assures. "Are you ready now? Or do you need to - ?"

"No, no, I'm good. Let me just – " He turns around and yells, "Cooper! I'm going out with Kurt!"

"Okay!" is the answer, and Blaine turns back around, grabbing Kurt's hand and motioning for him to go ahead. They go out to Kurt's car, and, as they head to the graveyard, they hold tightly to each other's hands.

Blaine stares out the window the whole ride, not minding the silence at all. It gives him space to think and really take in what they're about to do. He knows that he didn't know Burt very well, that he shouldn't have been so affected, but, in a way, he does feel like they had a kind of instant connection. An awkward, father-not-son sort of bond. If they had been given time, they would have formed it more, but they didn't, and that's what makes Blaine so upset and disappointed. At least now, he can feel some sense of closure with that event.

The graveyard is quiet when they arrive. There are only the sounds of the birds, and each other's breathing, and distant traffic if they listen closely. It's sunny out, only a few clouds in the sky, and normally, it would feel like a contradiction to the situation, but Blaine thinks it fits. He's here to visit someone who once helped in the process of bringing him to happiness, and why not thank him like this – in a place that's gorgeous and full of life?

Blaine and Kurt still have their fingers held tightly together as they walk along the grass, looking for the headstone with his father's name on it. As it turns out, it's near the back of the graveyard, just around the left-hand side. It's just an average headstone, nothing grand or over-the-top about it.

Blaine bends down, hand going immediately to the top of it, caressing the stone as he reads:

BURT HUMMEL

April 12th, 1965 – March 29th, 2011

Forty-six years old. Blaine feels a lump in his throat as he thinks about it. His own father is forty-eight. A sudden wave of realization falls over Blaine. People die every day. People who are young and old and somewhere in between. Brothers, friends, fathers, neighbors – they all die. Nine weeks ago, Blaine was ready to give up his life, and now he almost cherishes it. Burt's life was precious – precious to many, many people, and Blaine should treat his own the same.

Blaine thinks about his own father, who's older than Burt and who's still healthy and alive. There's another thing Blaine should really be grateful for – the fact that he has a father. So maybe they haven't always gotten along, so maybe sometimes it's really difficult to see eye to eye with each other, but that doesn't mean they don't love each other. Blaine hasn't really ever appreciated his father, at least not since he was twelve and his friends had crushes on girls and he didn't. He should really try to. He should put forth that effort and meet his father halfway.

Blaine shouldn't waste his own life, and he shouldn't waste the relationship that he and his father have, because some people don't have either one of those.

A sniffle from his right pulls Blaine from his thoughts. There are tears trickling down Kurt's face, and, instinctively, Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt's waist, pulling him close. Kurt rests his head on Blaine's shoulder, keeping his eyes on his father's grave.

Blaine's not sure how long they stand there, the sun beating down on their backs, a breeze ruffling their hair, and birds singing in the trees around them. He stays silent, letting Kurt cry quietly, getting it all out. From time to time, he rubs his hand along Kurt's upper arm, reminding Kurt that he's there.

Eventually, Kurt pulls away, and he pulls something from his bag – two white roses. He hands one to Blaine, forcing a small smile, and Blaine takes it. Kurt bends down first, setting his rose gently at the base of the headstone. He braces himself, putting his hand on the top of it as he leans forward. Closing his eyes, Kurt presses a kiss to the marble.

"I miss you, Dad," he whispers, "but I know that you're okay now. I hope you're having fun wherever you are, and that you find time to watch over me. I love you." He presses his head against his hand, closing his eyes again, completely silent. Another minute or so passes before he stands up again, motioning for Blaine to go ahead.

Blaine lowers himself to his knees, and drops his rose right beside Kurt's. His eyes graze over the name again, filling with a deep, chilling sadness. Now's his chance.

"Mr. Hummel, Burt, whatever you prefer, I know we didn't know each other a long time or very well, but you were part of what kept me going. You made me feel like I – I mattered, like I was important. Even as you sat on your deathbed, you made sure I was doing okay, though, like I said, we didn't know each other that well. I know this sounds silly, but you felt more like a father to me in those few weeks than my own dad, but, now, because of you, we're working on things. We're trying to fix our relationship, and we're making progress. I owe a lot of things to you, Burt, and it pains me more than it probably should to know that I no longer have a chance to thank you properly. I'm so sorry you had to go like this – " Blaine begins to choke a little, and he suddenly realizes he's crying.

"Burt, you – you didn't deserve this. You deserved to see Kurt and Finn grow up and start families of their own. You deserved to be a grandfather and a father-in-law, and you just – you deserved so much more, but if it's any consolation at all, I just want you to know how much you've helped me, and I'm going to make the most of my life. And I just – Burt, I'm sorry, and - and thank you. Thank you so much."

Blaine hangs his head, letting the tears come and the sobs rack his body. When he's finished, and he's found the ability to breathe again, he stands up shakily, practically throwing himself back at Kurt. They embrace tightly, holding each other together as they try to get a grip.

"I'm sorry," Blaine mumbles into Kurt's shoulder. "God, I'm so sorry."

Kurt sniffles, pulling back. He puts a shaky hand on Blaine's cheek, rubbing his finger along underneath his eye and trying hopelessly to collect the tears. "Don't be," he says softly. "My dad had a good life, Blaine, and I'll – we'll get through this. I'm just – I'm glad he's not suffering anymore. His heart problems made it difficult, and I'm just glad he won't have to deal with that any longer. Sure, I wish he could've been around for everything that you said, but he's probably happier now, and we shouldn't let this drag us down."

Blaine laughs, a little hysterical. Kurt stares at him, perplexed.

"What?"

Blaine shakes his head. "Always so optimistic."

"Not optimistic," Kurt corrects. "Just logical."

Blaine snorts. "Well, I guess I could use a little logic then."

Kurt closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Blaine's with a certain fierceness. He wraps his arms around Blaine's neck, one hand coming back to tangle in his hair. When he finally pulls away, pushing his and Blaine's foreheads together, he's breathing heavily, but Blaine can still make out what he says next.

"I love you."

Blaine freezes, feeling his heart skip a couple of beats.

"W – what?"

Kurt's eyes fly open, and he pulls back. "Oh, Blaine – I didn't – I'm sorry, I – "

"No, it's okay," Blaine reassures quickly, smiling. "I – I love you, too, Kurt." He swallows hard. "I'm just . . . not used to hearing that, I guess."

"Well, I mean it," Kurt replies. "You've done so much for me; I can't help it."

"Likewise," Blaine replies with a smirk, and he leans in quick to kiss Kurt again, deepening it as soon as possible. He's not sure how they make it back to the car later, but the next thing he knows, they're driving back to Kurt's house, trying to contain the threat of explosion in their chests, as well as their pants.

.

.

A few days later, Blaine is practically glowing when he walks into Marianne's office. He sits down on the couch and stretches out, making himself at home with a smile on his face. Marianne watches him with a pleased look, placing her clipboard on her lap.

"So I take it the medication's working well?

Blaine laughs. "Yeah, it is."

"And you're doing well?" Marianne asks. "Any more panic attacks? Any suicidal thoughts getting through?"

"No," Blaine says, shaking his head. "I feel great."

"Well," Marianne says, smiling wide. "Then I don't know what you're doing here, Blaine. Do you have anything you want to talk about? Any problems with adjustment?"

Blaine contemplates that for a moment. "Yeah," he says slowly, "but they're easy to deal with. It's mostly the homeschooling and the restrictions my parents have set."

"Your parents," Marianne repeats. "And things are going okay with them?"

"Yeah," Blaine says, grinning. He sits up a little straighter. "Actually, my dad – he, uh – he wants to take me to baseball game next weekend. And tomorrow I'm going shopping with my mom to get some new clothes." Blaine feels a little thrill go through his chest.

It's been almost unbelievable to see how quickly he and his parents are learning to get along and communicate. It's easier with his mother; the only real problem is how overprotective she is. She fusses over him far too much for his liking, but, if he were to be honest, it's a lot better than having her not take care of him.

His father is a different story. He's still a little distant, and a little awkward when Kurt is around, but he's trying. He was the one who let Blaine go to the cemetery with Kurt, and he's also invited Kurt over for dinner next week. Not to mention the fact that he's working from home, having once been a near workaholic.

Things aren't perfect, but they're looking up, and Blaine really appreciates both of his parents' support.

"Well, that's great, Blaine," Marianne says cheerfully. "How are your other relationships – your brother, your friends?"

"They're all fantastic," Blaine replies, and he feels a blush settle in his cheeks as memories of the other night come rushing back. He shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck.

Marianne raises an eyebrow. "Blaine, is there something you want to talk about?"

_They fall into Kurt's bed, an entanglement of limbs. Blaine keeps kissing Kurt fiercely as Kurt twists his fingers around in Blaine's hair, yanking and pulling. Blaine moves away from Kurt's mouth, kissing down the hollow of his throat, and Kurt lets out a whine._

"Actually, there is," Blaine begins softly. "Do you remember that day we were talking about love and being someone's first choice, being the person someone's world revolved around?"

Marianne nods.

_Kurt pulls hungrily at the hem of Blaine's shirt. Together they work to pull it off, tossing it somewhere to the right of Kurt's bed. Blaine pushes against Kurt, rolling him over until he's on top of him. Still managing to keep their lips together, they move frantically to get Kurt's shirt off._

"And you remember how I thought I'd never find somebody like that – someone that put me first? I never thought I'd be the most important person to someone?"

_Blaine can feel the erection straining his jeans, and his hips buck up. He can't help himself as he ruts helplessly against Kurt. Kurt takes control now, flipping him and Blaine around so he's the one straddling Blaine. Deepening another kiss, he pulls at Blaine's zipper, and then undoes the button. He pulls away for just one second to say, "You can tell me stop any time."_

_But Blaine doesn't. He shakes his head and reaches back up for Kurt. "Go ahead," he says breathlessly. "I want this, Kurt. I want you so bad."_

"I never thought it was possible for someone to love me like that. I never thought I was capable of mattering that much to someone. It was just such a foreign idea."

_After Kurt manages to pull down Blaine's jeans and underwear, he freezes for a moment, just staring at him. His heart thuds hard against his chest, and he can hear his ragged breath loud in his ears._

"_What?" Blaine asks, self-consciously._

"_Nothing," Kurt says. "It's just – you're beautiful, Blaine." He leans back down, kissing Blaine roughly. "So – absolutely – beautiful."_

"_I bet you are, too," Blaine says, grinning lopsidedly. He reaches for Kurt's jeans, taking his turn to admire._

"I didn't think that much of myself – how could someone else think that much of me?"

_Kurt thrusts against Blaine, building up the friction and watching Blaine crumble. He watches as Blaine pleads and begs, wanting more. After a minute, Kurt stops, and Blaine peels his eyes open, staring at Kurt with a desperate look on his face. _

"_I have condoms and lube under the bathroom sink," Kurt says, eyes flickering over to the door that leads to the bathroom branching off from his room. "Do you – do you want - ?"_

_Blaine nods._

_Kurt laughs, and jumps from the bed, hurrying to go get them._

"You know, sometimes I had trouble just accepting the friendships I had. I always thought – there was no way, _no way_ they all cared about me. I was always so worried about them secretly hating me, talking about me behind my back. You know – let alone a boyfriend."

_Kurt takes it slowly, carefully, only moving when Blaine asks for it. It's all a bit clumsy, a bit awkward and painful, but eventually they get to the point where Blaine keeps asking for more, and Kurt moves without hesitation, thrusting in and out of Blaine with eagerness. At last, Blaine comes with a cry, fingers clutching tightly to Kurt's thighs._

_A second later, Kurt comes, Blaine's name right on his tongue._

_Blaine stares for a long moment, looking at Kurt with utter disbelief._

"_What?"_

"So to meet someone like I have. To have someone like that around. Someone who genuinely cares about me, and who – god, who loves me, it's crazy."

"_Nothing," Blaine says, voice thick. _

"_No – what's wrong?" Kurt asks, looking concerned. "Did – did I hurt you?"_

"_No," Blaine assures, almost laughing. "It's just – sometimes this is all hard for me to believe."_

"_What is?" Kurt asks, leaning forward on Blaine's chest. _

"_This. Us," Blaine says with a sigh. "Kurt, I never imagined falling in love. It just wasn't ever in the cards for me. But today, you – you said you loved me, and now we're here in your bed, and – "_

_Kurt nods, pressing his lips together. "Well, it's true. I, myself – I've had so much trouble with guys in the past. So much heartbreak and pain. I used to doubt it, too. But there's a reason you found me on that bench, Blaine. There's a reason we've made it through all of this."_

_Blaine can feel the tears stinging his eyes, and his voice cracks when he says, "I love you."_

_Kurt stretches upward, pressing a soft kiss to Blaine's lips. "I love you, too."_

"Kurt's everything to me. And I'm everything to him. And I know everyone's going to say – well, you're in high school; you don't know that yet – but I really think I've found that person. That someone who's going to put me first. I _know_ I put Kurt first. He's just – he's helped me through so much, through everything."

Blaine lets out a small laugh, running a hand through his hair. He looks down at his lap, shaking his head.

"I love Kurt – so much. And honestly, I don't think I'd be here without him."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, that's a wrap. Thank you so much to those who read, reviewed, and gave support to this story. I don't know if I'll be around much anymore, at least not in this fandom - so if you don't see anything more from this account, goodbye. I'd like to think I had a great run - it certainly felt like it, and I have no one to thank but my readers, so thank you**.**


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